


Third Man In The Ring

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Stories from the Cupboard [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: American Soldiers, European Theater, F/M, Friendship, Germany, M/M, Nazis, Redemption, Rehabilitation, second world war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 90,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9963407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: An American Army vet who helped rehabilitate Europe at the end of the Second World War returns there years later to locate his German counterpart.  Forced to work together rehabilitating civilians in postwar Europe, two former enemies first had to learn how to get along together.  If they met years later, what would their relationship be then?





	1. The Linden Trees of Berlin, an Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> In boxing, the third man in the ring is the referee. In a broader sense, the third man in the ring could be anything that keeps people apart.  
> This work was inspired by the opening scenes of "Kelly's Heroes" and the song "Burning Bridges" from that movie. What if Kelly had succeeded in rescuing the German officer simply because it was the decent thing to do and not because the German knew where gold was secretly stored? Also, the hero of this work Alex Bryant is somewhat reminiscent of Clint Eastwood's portrayal of Kelly, and Alex's character was always "burning bridges" behind him, just as is stated in the song lyrics.

THE LINDEN TREES OF BERLIN  
(Carnival of Venice tune)

The linden trees of Berlin;  
Black Forest to the south;  
The beauty of my homeland  
Is grand beyond a doubt.

The linden trees of Berlin  
Will always mean home to me.  
For them I’ll do my part to  
Keep our people free.

I met her in the springtime;  
By summer we were wed.  
She made my life a treasure;  
My heart then ruled my head.

So soon we both were parted;  
I see her smile no more.  
Someday I hope to join her  
And leave her side no more.

I hope I can once more have  
The life that I adore;  
When all of us turn homeward,  
With no more talk of war.

The linden trees like my wife  
Still flower within my heart.  
Their loveliness remembered,  
Although we’re far apart.

And if I chance to lose them,  
Then cold my life and dark.  
I know I never could leave  
The prison of my heart.

The linden trees of Berlin,  
Like her, mean home to me.  
If none of them are waiting,  
There’s no more life for me.


	2. The Bastard On The Other End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is the start of Part I. MEET ALEX BRYANT, A GUY WHO WASN'T ALL THAT IMPRESSED WITH HIMSELF

Experience had taught Alex Bryant that the only way to get the damned phone to stop ringing was to answer it, but he sure as hell felt sorry for the poor dumb bastard on the other end. If it was Maw, well, she was used to his foul temper, especially if she disturbed his sleep. And if it was someone else-- Well, Alex really didn’t care if he pissed off too many other people. Some perverse glee hoped it was a wrong number. That would really justify the lecture he was preparing to give that unlucky soul.

“Hell,“ he mumbled as the phone kept ringing. Might as well get it over. With a mighty heave Alex rolled over in bed, fumbled for the phone, and cradled it against his ear. But the effort of those small movements exhausted him, and he felt his anger drain away with his energy. “’Lo?” he managed to mumble. 

The poor dumb bastard on the other end was safe.

“A-ten-shun! Officer present!”

Bryant groaned and wiped a hand over his rubbery face. “Shit, Maninsky, what do you want?”

“Happy to hear your voice again, too, Lieutenant. Or what rank did you finally wind up with?”

Bryant shifted in bed and opened his eyes wide to focus them. Mistake. The glaring light in the shabby bedroom made him squint his eyes nearly shut again. “Uh, Master Sergeant, so that means you outrank me. Unless you did something to disgrace yourself that I don‘t know about. As I remember, though, you always seemed to land on your feet, while I generally chose another part of my anatomy. In other words, the fleshy part most people generally sit on. Well, that was my landing pad.”

“Still the expert on baloney, aren’t you? After all these years, you’ve still got a fast mouth.” Maninsky couldn’t hide the admiration in his voice, though. “As for my rank, I left the Army as a Second Lieutenant.”

“Sounds like I should be saluting you.”

“It wouldn’t feel right.”

“Look, you don‘t have to give me any officer treatment, because I‘m not one.” 

“To me, you’ll always be a First Lieutenant. I expect a lot of the other guys feel the same way about it, too. Apparently, you didn’t quite make it back up to First Lieutenant again, but you did okay.”

 

“Stateside desk work doesn’t give much chance to deviate from the golden path laid out by the Army, Manny. I couldn’t get too creative. But it‘s still nothing but a big, stinking pile of bull--”

“Same old Bryant,” Maninsky interrupted. “Still using the same old, what did you always call it overseas? Oh, yeah, your expletive. And still shoveling it, too, it sounds like.”

“Yeah, and it still doesn’t smell any better than it ever did.” Alex grinned in spite of himself. Christ, but it felt good to be bullshitting with one of the old gang again. And he wouldn‘t admit that to just anyone. He tried his eyes with the light again and kept them open this time. He looked around and marveled. So this was what morning looked like. Who would’ve thought.

Maninsky chuckled. “Same old disregard for authority, too, even though you were an officer.“

“I don’t mind authority as long as it’s coming from someone who’s halfway bright. And there were a lot of high ranking officers who continually tried their hardest to prove to me that they weren‘t.“

“Yeah, you were always butting your head against orders, too. It was like you invited the pain. We cringed and waited to collect what was left of your carcass by the time the Brass got done with you. It was glorious to watch, though. We didn’t know if you had a death wish or was just plain stupid. It took real genius to get in as much trouble as you did. The way I remember it, you could get busted so far down that the rank of buck private looked like reaching for the stars to you. You always had a way of zooming back up the ladder, though.”

Alex could hear the grudging admiration in Maninsky’s voice again. Praise was one thing he didn’t like. He didn’t trust it. It generally meant that somebody wanted something from him. “What the hell is this, Manny? I haven’t heard from you in years, and you call me up to discuss my Army rank?”

“Well, it was kind of confusing. You have to admit that. I was your Second Lieutenant when you were First, but you kept losing your commission so fast and getting it back even faster, that I didn’t know whether to salute you or give you an order.”

“Just as long as you paid the beer tab and hauled my sorry ass out of the whore house before I was AWOL, I didn’t care which one of us was the officer in charge. But what the hell are you calling me so early for?”

“It’s 10 a.m. where I’m at in Boise, Alex,” Maninsky said gently. “That makes it noon out your way, buddy boy.”

Bryant sighed. He’d missed breakfast again, but that’s what happens when you don’t have a wife nagging you anymore. She would’ve never stayed in this dump, either. He didn’t know why he was living here himself. Yeah, he did. The screwing over he’d gotten from the divorce settlement had hit him hard. He was glad Sandra had gotten the house, though. He bet she’d be surprised knowing he was glad about something. At the end of their marriage, she’d said he was an unfeeling, cold fish and she wanted a man with emotions and who needed her. Well, he hoped she found someone who’d blubber all over her shoulder, dogged her every step, and worshiped the ground she walked on. They deserved each other, and fare-thee-well to you, too, bitch, he thought. 

He knew he was sounding bitter. Sandra deserved better thoughts from him. A nagging doubt in the secret place in his heart kept shouting that he was the culprit in their relationship. He knew he was the crap that chickens produce in their bodies on their daily journeys and then blithely walk through with no regard for where they track it. He could relate to the crap and he could relate to the chickens. 

And the fact remained that Sandra was the mother of his daughter, and that would always make her special to him. Even if she was a bitch in so many other ways.

Bryant squinted his eyes tightly shut. And there were things, other things, things he missed. Companionship, for one. He had been married to Sandra for many years and thumping her on the side for several years before their marriage. That was a long time to get used to each other, and a long time to try to forget. This bed felt mighty lonesome without her in it. And the Sandra-less apartment felt alien and cold.

“Alex? You still there?”

“Yeah, Manny.” He didn’t want any probing questions from Manny, and he especially didn’t want to have to provide any answers. He used a favorite trick to get people off his back. He asked about them, not that he really gave a damn about their answers. But it made them change the subject to something they really liked to talk about: themselves. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Nine-to-five job. Mortgaged house in the suburbs. Two-and-half kids.”

“One on the way?”

“Nah, they’re about grown. Sometimes, though, I feel like my son’s only half here. He’s sixteen, and I swear I think he walks around with his head up his backside most of the time.“

His own daughter crossed Alex‘s mind and her probable assessment of him. “He probably thinks about you the same way.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Seems like I thought my old man didn’t know his ass from his elbow when I was that age.“

Lucky you, Alex thought. Lucky you knew your old man.

“I guess we all thought the same about our fathers,“ Manny said.

Not all of us did, Alex thought. How about not knowing who your father was?

“They‘re a pretty good bunch of kids, for the most part,“ Maninsky continued. “One’s in high school, one’s in college, and one’s made me a grandpa already. Twice.”

Suddenly, Alex was interested in the conversation. Manny’s life sounded so normal, so unattainable. “Still married?” he asked and found himself praying that someone was living the American dream.

“We celebrated our twenty-fourth anniversary in December.”

“That’s great, Manny. Just great.” And he really meant it. Lately he’d been feeling like he’d been cheating himself in life, like the poor slobs chained to a family might be onto something he didn‘t know about. He had the sinking idea that it was all slipping away from him, like maybe it was too late for him to get in on the good stuff.

Christ! He needed to change the subject, or tears would start running next. What kind of old woman was he turning into, anyway? His eyes hadn’t burned like this in a long time. If he was a woman, he’d swear he was going into menopause. 

Luckily, Maninsky changed the subject. “You’ll never guess what I’m calling about, never in a hundred years.”

“Well, that’s a long time to get to guess, but it beats me, Manny. I never was any good at parlor games. You‘ll just have to tell me what your big news is.”

“Our outfit is going back to Europe!”

“Why? Do they want us to shoot more Germans?”

Maninsky chuckled. “Same old Bryant! Irreverent as hell! No, we’re going as tourists this time.“

Alex absently flexed his left shoulder. Mention of Europe or the Second World War always caused a slight twinge in his upper arm. The old bullet wound didn’t give him much trouble now, but he never forgot that it was there. Or why. 

“That’s right,“ Manny continued when Alex didn‘t say anything. “We’re going to revisit all the places we saw during and after the war. You remember them, don‘t you? Normandy Beachhead? Nancy, France? Metz, France?” He paused. “Heidelberg, Germany?”

Bryant was no longer sleepy. Heidelberg? That was the city where he’d been shot and where he‘d last seen Hoffman. That was the city where he’d realized he’d made a big mistake, a mistake that he’d never gotten to correct.

“God, Manny.”

“Beats all, doesn’t it?!”

“Do you really want to go back there?”

“Sure! Why not?” A pause. “Don’t you?”

No!

Maybe.

“I’ll let you know.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Alex screwed his eyes shut. “I know.”

“We’ll be going to cemeteries to see the guys who didn’t make it. Some of our buddies are still over there, you know.” His voice sounded so personal.

Alex felt a chill go across his shoulders. “Yeah,” Alex answered, and it was more a release of air than a word.

“There’s several big American cemeteries in Europe for our guys.” Thank goodness his voice had lost its personal tone.

Alex shook off the chill. “I’ve heard.” Alex thought of the names and faces of guys he thought he’d forgotten. He hadn’t. They were still with him. In spirit. Their bodies were in Europe.

Manny must‘ve been thinking the same way for there was a pause on the line. Then he came back impersonal again. “We’ll also go to towns and cities we saw. Maybe we can meet again some of those same mademoiselles and frauleins we knew back then,” he said to lighten the conversation. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Bryant grinned. “I would, but what would their husbands say? Besides, they’re probably all grandmothers by now and might not want to be reminded of what they did with the oversexed American soldiers.” 

“Their grandkids wouldn’t believe what went on, either, would they?”

Alex‘s grin was genuine. “It might give them a new slant to Granny.”

 

Europe. France. Germany. 1944. 1945. Did Alex want to go back, back to the places and time of all of the suffering and killing? Back to that madness that was the Second World War? But it was all in the past, in all of their pasts, friend and foe alike. Bryant thought he’d never have to think about those places and people again, let alone revisit them. 

The war was winding down in late 1944 and early 1945, and American troops were mopping up in eastern France and southwest Germany. They had the Nazi Army retreating, but they could never assume that the Germans would give up easily. The ensuing battles caused much destruction in human life and to the terrain.

There must have been much beauty in the land at one time. But not in late 1944 and early 1945. Bomb craters and half-destroyed buildings were everywhere. Who knew what else was there. Burial squads identified what they could and made common graves of what they couldn’t. Allied, Nazi, and civilian assorted body parts were shoveled together and given a blanket of dirt. 

Now, with the end of the war nearly in sight, the former factions moldered together and made fine compost for the emerging Europe. A Europe that had to better itself so it could face the future. The Allies didn’t want the populace beaten to a pulp and never allowed to prosper. That would have been counterproductive for them and for the world. America couldn’t feed all of those hungry, homeless, disoriented people. Better that they fed themselves and helped to improve the world. But they had to leave their Nazi ideas behind. They had to be re-educated.

While he‘d been in France and Germany, Alex had kept wondering what the Europeans were feeling. To go through war was one thing, but to have it fought on your home soil must have been emotionally devastating to them. He hoped he would never have to have that experience in America.

But to go back now to the scene of all that trauma and heartache? To have those long ago memories made fresh again? How could he?

On the other hand, how could he not?

 

He decided that a whole lot of what he might get out of a trip to Europe would depend on his attitude toward it. He might as well make it something pleasurable instead of something to be dreaded. He had the sneaking hunch, though, that it could be as soul searching, unwanted, and downright uncomfortable as a class reunion. 

Maybe, if he acted chipper enough about it, he might convince people that he was going to enjoy the trip.

Maybe he might even be able to convince himself.

But he doubted it.


	3. Maw's Sleazy Bar

Bryant entered the business that was so proud of its tawdry condition in a poor part of Trenton, New Jersey, that it brazenly called itself ‘Maw’s Sleazy Bar.’ It really wasn‘t all that bad, but it had seen better days. Just a few blocks from his apartment, Alex navigated his way through the intentional darkness of the bar toward the counter at the far end of the cavernous room. Then he piled down heavily on an accommodating barstool. Even though it was the middle of the day, a few patrons sat scattered in the dimness trying to find a little companionship in an inanimate bottle. The last thing they wanted was companionship, so Alex left them alone.

A woman much beyond her prime leaned over the counter toward Alex. Her hardened face softened with the dark warmth in her rheumy eyes, and years seemed to fall away from her wrinkled face. She wasn‘t all that old, but Time had not been kind.

“Sonny Boy! What’s the occasion?”

Bryant shifted on his stool. “Not today, please. Bourbon, straight up.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “It’s mighty early, but since you said please--” She turned to pour the whiskey into a shot glass.

“I’m trying to give it up. I’m doing better with the cigarettes.”

She set the drink down and stared pointedly at the pack of cigarettes in his breast coat pocket.

He winced. “Shut up, Maw!”

She threw up her hands. “Did I say anything?” she asked innocently.

“No, but the Injun in you was giving me supreme hell.”

She looked smug. “That’s called your conscience, sweetie.”

“And stop acting so coy. It’s not your most endearing trait.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Maybe not. But it got me this saloon. I kept Rocky Parker happy in his old age, and he was very willing to show his gratitude. It gave you a place to come home to, but it was well earned.”

“Spare me the details.”

She laughed. “What? No romance in your soul today?“

“I’m not in the mood.“

“That’s what she said.”

He smirked. “Been listening to cheap comics again?” He grimaced as he drank the bourbon. It hit his stomach pretty hard.

“Better have something to eat to go along with that hooch.”

“I’m not hungry, Maw.”

“Lord, you used to be! Your mom and I had a heck of a time keeping you fed.”

He looked at this woman he still insisted on calling ‘Maw,’ even though she was closer to his age than his mother‘s. Her real name was Kate, but he rarely called her that. She was the one person in the world who would never stop loving him, no matter what he did. He hoped.

“I was a growing boy back then. I’m all grown up now, Maw.”

“And don’t I know it! Listen, I’ve got some beef roast in back. I could fix you a quick sandwich with a slice of apple pie to go with it. You need some fattening up.”

“No, thanks.”

She studied him a few moments. “Sandra’s worried about you. She told me how skinny you were.”

“So you two are on speaking terms?”

“She and I didn’t get a divorce. We’re staying friends. She’s a good woman, Alex. You messed up. You should‘ve never let her go.”

“I know that. All of what you say is true.“

“You could get her back if you tried.“

“Probably. I don’t know if I care anymore.“

Kate straightened. “Sonny Boy, you better start caring about something.“

“I know. I’ve been thinking along those lines myself. If I got back together with Sandra, it would make everything okay again, wouldn’t it? But I’ve heard that she’s seeing another guy.”

“I’ve met him. He’s great. He’s a minister and would give her the security she needs. But she’d leave him in a second if you showed any interest in her again.”

“Yeah, and that might not be the best thing for her. Yeah, I could get her back. I think.” He frowned. “There’s the outside chance that she’s had enough of me, too. If we got back together, though, I know it’d work wonders with Josie. And we’d be one, big happy family again. But it doesn’t feel right for me. I just feel, I guess, numb. Life is messy and illogical and not the pat scenario our reconciliation would make.”

“That’s because you’re used to your mother’s way of living. It’s in your blood. You’re just as wild as she was. You think living like most people is boring.”

“Maybe, but I keep feeling like there’s something more waiting for me out there. It’s something that doesn’t make any sense, but is right for me somehow. But another part of me wants me to take the logical route and reconcile with Sandra. On top of that, I’d like to correct some of my past mistakes, if that’s possible. I’ve made a ton of them.”

“Sounds like you’re at a crossroads and don’t know which way to go.”

“That pretty well sums the situation up.”

“It would be nice if you could reconcile with Sandra. She’s raising your daughter right. And that’s probably quite a chore. Josie’s too much like you.”

Bryant gave her a wicked grin. “How‘s that? Fast with the ladies and hung like a he goat?”

The woman straightened. “You know what I mean. Cussed stubborn and unmanageable.”

Bryant took a sip of his bourbon and frowned. “I got that way being around you, Kate Parker.”

“Yeah, and you got your wanderlust from your mother. She was a great one for burning all of her bridges behind her, too. ‘No looking back,’ she‘d say--” 

“’No regrets,‘ Alex finished the quote. “Keeps life simpler, she said.”

“And more interesting, I bet. Your way of living would make a preacher cuss. You’ve had more ups and downs than a teeter totter. I’ve never seen someone with more luck than you. And then you can turn around and be the unluckiest. You’ve made a couple of fortunes and then fiddled-farted them away. Right now you‘re living like a pauper.”

“I don’t give a tinker’s damn how I live. You should know that by now.“ He saw her roll her eyes. “Besides, Life is an illusion, It’s all quicksilver, Maw.“ He toyed with his shot glass. “I get bored with what I’m doing. I like new challenges. I gotta do new things.” 

“With what you’ve earned in your life, you could‘ve retired rich a long time ago, but you haven‘t.”

“It hasn’t been all that important. Doing work was always better than making money. Besides, I made some of it by putting some woman on her back.”

“She wasn‘t complaining any, as I remember.” 

“Yeah, but, it made me feel like a gigolo.” 

“Honey, you were a gigolo!“ she hooted with laughter.

He gave her a wily look. “It’s an old family tradition.“

Her eyes flashed fire. “Watch yourself there, sonny!“

He held up his hands in surrender. “Did I say you?! I was thinking of my mother.“

“Well, okay,“ she grudgingly accorded him.

“Besides, we’re a family that doesn’t seem to believe in retiring.“ He glanced at her wrinkles. “Speaking of that, when are you going to retire, Maw?”

“What? And give all this up?” she asked and gestured at the grimy bar. 

“See? We‘re two peas in a pod.”

“It’s what I earned from my marriage to Rocky. I’ll keep my hand in here until they tote me up to Bleeker’s Hill.”

Bryant frowned. He didn’t like to hear any mention of that cemetery. That’s where his mother lay. How long before Maw joined Doris?

He didn’t want to think about it!

“And stop looking at me with those big calf eyes like you’re measuring me for a pine box, buster. I’ll let you know when I‘m ready for one.”

Bryant blinked. He hadn’t realized his face was that easily read.

Kate wiped at the bar. “Besides, I don’t have time for something like that. I‘m on the lookout for the next man in my life.”

Alex gave a short, jeering laugh. “I feel sorry for that poor dumb bastard.”

Kate lifted her eyebrow. “Poor, LUCKY bastard, you mean.”

“Yeah, I probably do.“

“You probably just don’t want to share me.“

“You’re probably right.“ Actually, she was closer to the truth than she knew. Any man who got her would have to be pretty special. Alex would make sure of that. The buy would have to get past Alex.

Alex smirked to himself. She probably already knew that, too. 

Bryant knew he got his sometimes acid tongue from Maw. He’d heard it was a defense device. Hell, no mystery there. He was just as smart-ass, just like Maw. 

‘Maw’ wasn’t really his mother, but she was the closest thing he had to one. Kate Parker had been Doris Bryant’s co-worker and best friend. And when Doris had died of cancer, Kate had taken Alex home with her. Alex had been fourteen at the time and had lived with Kate and her daughter Penny until he went into the service.

“How’s Penny doing?” 

“She had the baby last month. That makes three kids now. She and Dean are calling him Michael.”

“Been up to see the new addition, yet?”

“Last weekend. He’s a keeper. You should get up to see them sometime yourself. Penny asks about you. She still thinks of you as her older brother.”

“I know. Maybe I’ll get up there soon. That’s another person I’ve neglected. That’s another mistake I’m going to have to correct.”

“You are at a crossroads.”

“Yeah,” Alex mumbled. 

Kate leaned closer. “What’s going on, Alex? You never stop in just to chat.”

“Don’t I?” He frowned. “No, I guess I don’t.” He played with his drink glass, and it made watery swirls on the bar. “I’m thinking of going to Europe this summer.”

She blinked. “What the hell for?!”

“Army reunion. Don’t look at me that way. It’s not my idea, and I‘m not in much favor of it.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been your idea, though. Why are you going if you’re against it? I’ve never known you to get shoved into anything.”

“I’d like to know if they really did recover from the war. I’d like to see the land and people and towns restored to the way they were meant to look. And there’s some personal unfinished business I‘d like to take care of. I got pulled away so fast, some things were left in the air. I didn‘t know it, but I guess it‘s been festering all this time.”

“Then you better go take care of it.”

“I thought that part of my life was done. Do you think I should rip off that scab?” 

“It’s your scab, sweetie.”

Yeah, mine, and one other guy’s, he thought.

“Hey, Josie’s over there this summer. You might run into her.”

Bryant frowned. “Josie’s in Europe? What the hell for?”

“She and a bunch of other kids are backpacking across the continent. Kids with one year of college behind them pretty well know it all.“

“Wonder where she got that from?” he muttered.

“Maybe from another sassy-mouthed kid I knew about thirty years ago? Wonder who that could’ve been? Her father, maybe?”

“How in the hell did Sandra allow that? Her going to Europe?”

“Look, I hear it’s safe over there. That’s what Josie said, not her mother. Sandra was against it.”

For once, Bryant agreed with Sandra.

“My Indian sense tells me she’ll be okay. She‘s a bright, intelligent young lady with a sensible head on her shoulders. I think she‘ll get along just fine.” She studied him closely. “I’m not so sure about you, though.”

It annoyed him that he didn’t have her blessing, too. “What Indian sense? You don’t look much like an Injun, Maw.”

He knew it would rile her, and it did. He waited for the reaction and steeled himself for it. He’d been disappointed if she hadn’t grabbed the bait.

“What? I don’t look enough like an Indian for you?! What should I do?!” she snapped. “Run around with scalps hanging off my belt?!” 

“Now, Maw----”

“I’m Oneida, a New York Indian tribe. And you shouldn’t act so uppity, mister. You’ve got Cherokee in you, from your daddy.”

“What about my daddy, Kate? What do you know about him?”

“That’s past history. When are you thinking of leaving for Europe?”

“Soon.” He thought for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not so sure if I’ll be okay over there?“

“You came back from the war with a whole lot of hurting in you, and I don’t mean just your wound. The inside of you was raw, like your heart was bruised and bleeding.“

“It was. That hellhole that was Europe at war had started to feel normal to me, and I didn’t realize it until I hit Stateside again. A human being can learn to adjust to just about anything, and I guess I had.“ He frowned. “There’s a whole lot of pieces of me scattered all over Europe, Maw. I saw a whole lot of stuff nobody should see, especially a young kid as green as I was. I thought I knew everything before I went over there, but you know what? I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know squat.“ 

“That’s what I could sense when you got back. There was a sadness to you that I couldn’t reach. You’d changed. You’d grown up on me while you were gone.“

“And now I’m going back. Good, bad, or indifferent, I’m going back.“ He finished his drink and set down the glass. “And you know what? It might not be so bad. It’ll be great to get back with the guys I served with.“ He frowned. “What’s left of us.“

“You mean, how many of you are still alive?

“Yeah, that’s what I meant, too.“ 

No sense dwelling on that sadness, either. It’d only remind both of them that they were middle-aged, and Life would start limiting itself for them soon.

Alex stirred and pulled himself off his bar stool. “What do you want me to bring you back from Germany?”

She rolled her eyes. “Besides yourself? How about one of those Hummel boy dolls in his cute little Tyrolean knee pants? Or better still, how about one of those cute little German guys? He doesn’t even have to be in a Tyrolean get-up. Just make sure he’s near sighted or half blind so he won’t see what he’s getting. My wrinkles might put him off.”

Bryant wanted to tell her that if the German guy was smart, he could see the goodness and beauty in her heart and he’d forget about her wrinkles. But Bryant knew that was the last thing he could say to her. 

He pointed his index finger at her and winked. “Got it. One half-blind German guy coming up! For you, Maw, anything!” 

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and a sound of derision, but he knew she was pleased. She tried to act tough with him, but he wasn’t fooled about how she felt. Nothing could stop the love shining out of her eyes for him, and sometimes he wondered what he did to deserve it.


	4. Germany Beans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is the start of PART II. WHY ALEX WAS THE WAY HE WAS

Alex’s earliest memories revolved around staying with his mother’s parents on their farm in northeastern Oklahoma. But they lived so close to Missouri that they almost considered themselves from that state, also. His mother was often gone, working somewhere, and Alex stayed with his grandparents. Everyone enjoyed the situation. Doris loved her child, but she was young and wanted to have some fun. Alex didn’t mind. Her parents had a farm full of marvels for her young son, and they cared about him.

Alex wasn’t very old when he remembered watching Grandma Frieda killing a chicken for the noon meal that farmers called dinner. She and Alex were in the chicken yard when Grandma had suddenly reached down and grabbed a young rooster. At first Alex thought Grandma was playing with the chicken as she began to swing it around in a circle by its neck. But when the chicken flew to the ground several feet away and its head was still in Grandma’s hand, Alex knew this was no game. Especially for the chicken.

The beheaded chicken flopped and jumped around for several moments, and its lungs still pumped air through the bloody stump of its neck. And its heart still pumped blood through its veins and arteries. Most of it coursed along nicely through the circulatory system, except for the blood going toward a head that was no longer attached. Blood was spattered everywhere on the ground, and the other chickens that had only minutes before been roost mates of the unfortunate headless bird rushed in to start pecking at its bloody carcass. Grandma waded into the melee, retrieved her kill, and hung it upside down with its claws through the yard fence.

“The blood will drain out good,” she explained. “You watch so the other chickens don’t peck at it. I’ll go get the hot water to scald it.” She disappeared into the back kitchen door.

Alex was left to face the chickens. They made a determined effort to storm their deceased flock member, and Alex made an even greater determined effort to shoo them away. The chickens eyed Alex with the black beads on either side of their heads and tried to outmaneuver him. After all, he was only one human, and a small one at that. But Alex was determined, and the chickens had to contend themselves with pecking at the blood dripping on the ground. Grandma’s kill quivered occasionally, but eventually stilled.

Grandma finally returned with a milk bucket full of boiling water. Then she grabbed the dead chicken by its legs and began dipping it into its final bath.

“Be sure the water is boiling,” Grandma instructed as she began plucking, “or the feathers won’t release.”

Even at his tender age, Alex was pretty sure he wouldn’t ever be killing or plucking a chicken. He generally gave the flock a wide berth. They seemed half-savage with their sharp beaks and leering eyes. He didn’t want to give them an excuse for revenge. He had a feeling that they knew he would be eating their flock mate.

“Why are the other chickens trying to peck him, Grandma?”

“Chickens are cannibals. If one of them gets its flesh torn, they’ll keep pecking on it until they’ve eaten it alive.”

“Why do they do that?”

“It’s the way of nature, Liebschen. Eat or be eaten.”

“Do we do that, too?”

“That’s right. We feed the chickens so we can eat them.” She smiled. “But we give them a good home and make them think that we are working for them.” 

“Why did you feed the chickens and then grab one? I saw that its craw was full of corn and chicken feed.“

“Everything deserves a last meal,” Grandma answered, displaying a kind side that was not always noticeable. “Besides, the food it ate is not wasted. The other chickens will eat it when I throw out the parts I don’t want. It’s all very thrifty.“ She dumped the water and placed the chicken carcass into the bucket. “Come. We will go dress the chicken now and put it to soak.”

“Why?”

“Why do we soak it? To get rid of the animal heat.”

Alex liked to watch Grandma cut up the chicken. First, she would sharpen the butcher knife on the cement wheel by the wash house. Then she would start in on the bird. Disjoin the legs and thighs from the body and then from each other. Plop! Plop! Drop them into the cold well water. Then the wings. Plop! Plop! Then the body. Split the breast and wish bone. Scoop out the handful of intestines and vital organs, being careful not to rupture a bowel. Break the body. Separate ribs from the back. Retrieve the heart, liver, and gizzard (Grandpa’s favorite). Dress out the head, the part Grandma called the little neck. It housed the brain (Grandma’s favorite). Grandma even cleaned the feet (Alex’s favorite) that were full of chewy gristle.

If Grandma was in a hurry, and she generally was, she could clean a chicken in fifteen minutes. Then she put it to soak.

“Come, we will go to the garden and pick vegetables for dinner.”

As they went out the back door, Alex eyed the fruit pies cooling on the counter. “Are those apricot?”

“Of course! From our own orchard. It is a wise and frugal person who has an orchard. He will always eat.”

“When did you bake them?”

“When you were still in bed, Liebschen!” she answered as she opened the garden gate for him. “I figure if I don’t have my pies done by sunup then I’m behind.”

Out in the garden they picked string beans and pulled beets. Back in the house Grandma put the chicken on to cook in a large kettle and chopped off the beet tops so she could cook the beets.

“I will pickle them when they are done. You start snapping the green beans.” 

As Alex obeyed, he watched her make noodles. He loved how she made a hole in the mound of flour on the kitchen table and broke eggs into it. Then she added salt and began mixing the flour and eggs with her hands. She added more flour as she progressed.

“How can you tell when you need more flour, Grandma?”

“By the way the dough feels, Liebschen.”

She never tired of answering his questions. Like most Germans, she believed in education.

After she kneaded the dough, she got her rolling pin out of the drawer and began rolling the dough flat in all directions.

“We will let it dry,” she announced as she grabbed the pan of stringed beans. “Ah, Liebschen, here is a blemish you missed. That is not good to eat.”

“I was watching you make something good to eat, Grandma.”

She smiled indulgently. “That is good. Now remove the blemish, and you will learn more. Now we will put the beans on to cook. In a few weeks, the Germany beans will be ready to harvest, and we have some good bean soup with the ham hocks, ja?”

“Why do you call them Germany beans, Grandma? They look just like other dry beans, except smaller.”

“My mama brought them with her from the old country, from Germany. She saved seeds so she could have a new crop from them every year.”

“So the Germany beans that we’ll be eating soon will be great, great, great, great grandchildren of the beans your mama brought with her?”

“Ja. So many greats that we cannot count them anymore, but they help us remember our homeland.”

“Grandma, I’d like to go to Germany some day.”

“I hope you do, Liebshen. My parents said it was beautiful. But now we must cut the noodles.”

With the noodles dried, she sliced them into oblongs, added more flour to keep the oblongs from sticking together, stacked them, and cut them into thin strips. These she added to the boiling chicken broth.

Alex wet his lips as the delicious smell of cooking food filled the kitchen. Soon there would be another meal on the table, and they would eat heartily. 

And then in the evenings when the chores were all done, the young boy and his grandparents would sit in the living room and listen to the radio. The world was theirs whether they listened to comics or baseball games or grand opera or the news. They listened to it all, because it was all a marvel for them.

But first, before the radio came on, Alex and Grandma would sit down and read together after supper. Books opened up the world for them, also, just as the radio did later on. Grandma, good German that she was, had been raised to love and to respect education and the written word. She had tried to pass that love on to her daughter who eventually found new interests. And now Grandma was passing the thirst for knowledge on to her grandson. And Grandpa, who didn't give two farts in the wind about book learning, tolerated it because he loved Grandma and knew that learning was important to Grandma.

And Alex would sit at the table with Grandma, pore over the fascinating words, and dream of the outside world and tomorrow when it would all start over again with wonderful food and reading. He was a lucky child, indeed!

 

And then one day, Grandma Houston wasn’t cooking in her kitchen. She took to her bed, and Doris came home. Everyone tiptoed around and talked in hushed whispers. Then Grandma went away in an ambulance and never came home again.

The next time Alex saw her was at church. That was odd because they never went to church in the middle of the week. And she seemed to be lying down in a gaudy box, and she seemed to be asleep. Alex wanted to ask what was going on and why Grandma didn’t get up. But everyone was tiptoeing around and talking in hushed whispers again. He figured he’d better keep quiet, too.

 

The house was different after Grandma left and Doris came back. Grandpa took care of the chickens, and Doris took care of the garden. Although Doris tried, she was not the gardener her mother had been. The small Germany beans didn’t produce much that fall, and what were saved were eaten by hungry mice over the winter. That link with Grandma and Germany was forever gone. It was as if the beans knew Grandma wasn’t taking care of them anymore, and didn’t want to live, either.

Father and daughter didn’t seem to do anything together the way Alex and Grandma had. There seemed to be an uneasy truce between them. Alex supposed that Grandpa Houston loved Alex’s mother, but he never knew for sure. More importantly, Alex always felt that his mother never knew for certain. Sure, Grandpa was her father but that didn’t automatically insure his affection. Grandpa came from a generation of men who didn’t express their feelings. Some things were just taken for granted and never spoken about. 

Then, there was also the problem that Doris hadn’t been a boy. Men wanted a man child. They liked the idea of a duplication of themselves living on after they had departed this world. Reality didn’t always occur with these male children, though. The next generation didn’t always value the same ideals or plans. But still the dream of male children persisted.

Generally, Grandpa just didn’t pay any attention to Doris. Father and daughter had their own agendas, their own worlds, their own hopes for the future. And those clashed as the gap between generations and gender widened.

Alex was already starting to forget Grandma Frieda. He could remember her making noodles more easily than what her face looked like. He often begged Grandpa Ben to tell him about her, and his grandfather would always comply.

“Alex, did you know that your grandmother just missed being born in Germany?”

Alex shook his head.

“Yep, that‘s right. Her folks didn‘t know she was on the way until they were crossing the ocean, and then her mother started heaving up her socks.”

Doris saw Alex‘s eyes get bigger. “Dad. Kids are literal.”

“Anyway, her folks made it to Indiana where they finally stopped long enough for your grandmother to get born. Even though her folks lived here in the States for the rest of their lives, they never lost their German ways. Why, your grandma was so German, she had sauerkraut hanging out of her--”

“Dad! Don’t talk that way in front of Alex,” Doris demanded as they sat at the kitchen table eating supper. “He’s only five years old. I want him to be tolerant of all people.”

“Even those Krauts who killed men we knew?” Ben asked.

“That was war. It wasn’t anything personal.”

“Nothing personal?! People died. You can’t get any more personal than that! Dead is dead, girl!”

Doris plowed ahead. “And they were German soldiers, not Krauts.”

“A lot of folks around here wouldn’t care for your Hun-loving ways.”

“You’re name calling again! Hun is another offensive term for Germans.”

“Must I remind you it hasn’t been all those many years since the Big War? A lot of good boys didn’t come back. We could‘ve used those boys back here. They left hollows in families that can never be filled.”

“The families and friends of the Germans who died miss them, too. Some of them had to be Mama‘s relatives.”

“I don’t care about those people. They’re faceless to me. But I knew guys from around here who didn’t come back, and you knew them, too. Two of your cousins didn’t return, and that Meechum boy that was sweet on you.”

“Arthur took me to a few dances. We weren’t steady or anything. No promises had been made. Besides, he liked Rosa Hunnicut, too.”

“The point remains that Alex would’ve had a daddy now if Arthur would’ve returned. Arthur would have you a nice home set up by now, and you could take some pride in what you got the right way and not on your back hell knows where.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Besides, he wasn’t Alex’s father.” She glanced quickly at her son and then back to her father. “Look, just don’t talk like that in front of Alex.”

“Why not? It’ll make a man of him. He needs to hear how men talk. You don’t want him to be a pussy, do you?” Fred Hudson looked at Alex and frowned. “You don’t want to be a pussy, do you, boy?”

And Alex, who sought his grandfather’s approval as much as his mother’s, answered earnestly, “No, sir, I’d rather be a doggy.”

It was one of the few times Alex ever saw his grandfather collapse in uncontrollable laughter.

 

Alex learned other things from his grandfather. Ben was a short, bandy-legged scrapper who never started a fight, but didn’t walk away from one, either. He farmed in the summer and ran a trap line on the creek bordering the farm in the winter. Saturdays, in warm weather, he took a crate of eggs to the produce house in town and traded for sacks of laying mash and cash. 

Hens don’t lay much in the winter so they have to hum right along with their hoped for daily egg in the summer. That was the only way the hens paid for their upkeep in the winter. When it got obvious that all they were doing was eating, then the old hens hit the table as baked chicken or in cooked dishes such as chicken and dumplings. You don’t fry up an old hen the way you would a cockerel if you expect to want to chew it. Ain’t gonna happen, son. Those old biddies are really tough old birds.

“The chicken’s eggs keep us in the summer and the animal pelts keep us in the winter,” Ben often said. Hogs and cattle going to market paid the farm’s big bills and the taxes, but eggs and pelts put food on the table and gas in the old pickup.

Alex helped his grandfather dress out the pelts that would be sold to make fur coats for rich women in the cities. Grandpa would split open the inside of the animal’s back legs with a sharp knife to expose the flesh and free the hide from the legs. Then it was Alex’s job to hold the animal by its bloody, clammy legs while Grandpa dressed out the rest of the hide. He had to hold the legs tight so the knife wouldn’t slip and cut Grandpa. When he finished, Ben would throw the animals’ guts to the dogs and stretch the pelts on wire frames so they could dry.

Generally, Ben’s traps yielded muskrat or beaver hides. The occasional mink was cause for celebration. Mink pelts meant more money. Alex remembered running his hand over a mink pelt once. It was so soft. No wonder those rich women in the cities liked the coats made out of them.

 

Alex spent a lot of time with Grandpa that first year after Grandma died, while Doris worked and ran around.

“Doris, as much as I like Alex, you’re his mother, and you need to be taking care of him. Your mother and I spoiled you, letting you bring your wood’s colt home without recrimination.“ He pursed his lips and spat out, “A wood’s colt! Had you no family pride, girl?!“ Ben turned aside. “And you’re still running around like a striped assed monkey who‘s just heard about sex!” He calmed himself. “But it’s time it has to stop. You have to grow up.”

The air was tense in the silence that followed Ben’s speech. Doris wasn’t even going to answer, when Alex suddenly spoke up.

“What’s a wood’s colt, Mama? Is that something bad?” His lip quivered. “Am I something bad?”

“There! See what you’ve done?”

“I never aimed to hurt him,” Ben said with sorrow in his voice. “He can’t help who plugged you. But he’s the one who’ll have to pay for your sins. It wasn’t his fault. I told you to stay away from those damn Indians. That Clyde Mayfield and Tully Staghorn are rough characters. They both have a little Cherokee in them.”

“I’ve had a little Cherokee in me, too,” Doris said under her breath. She glanced at Alex and remembered her pregnancy with him. “And a lot of Cherokee, too,” she muttered and smiled as she thought about those wild reservation boys. They put the Anglo Saxon boys to shame when it came to loving, especially those dour, blonde Germans like her mother’s people.

“What?”

“Nothing, Daddy. Nothing at all,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll try to do better.”

“For the sake of your son, I hope you do. I understand you‘ve had Alex down there with the Indians.”

“They have a rich tradition. I want Alex to learn diverse cultures. I want him to know all kinds of people.”

“Are you sure you just don‘t want him around his daddy a little?”

Doris sniffed in derision and didn‘t answer. Even Alex knew that Grandpa had hit on the truth.

“Which one of those two was it?” When Doris didn‘t answer, her father said, “Won‘t say?“ He frowned as he studied his daughter. “Or can‘t say?”

Doris’s head shot up.

Ben held his daughter’s eyes. “You don‘t know for sure, do you?“ He smiled then, but there was no humor or mirth behind it. “Why, you‘re nothing but a little--”

Then Grandpa called Alex’s mother something that Alex figured wasn’t a bad name for a German, just for mamas. And Alex figured it was true. For one thing, Doris didn’t correct her father. She just crossed her arms and had a belligerent look on her face flushed red with shame.

For another thing, Alex sensed that his grandfather felt no triumph from winning a point in his ongoing argument with Doris. 

What she was too angry to see on her father’s face, but what Alex saw, was deep sorrow. He knew that his grandfather would never understand his daughter. And for that, Ben felt that he had failed as a father.


	5. Weak Family Blood

When Alex was five and a half years old, his mother married Cecil Bryant from one county over. 

“What the hell for?” asked her puzzled father.

“I’ve got to give Alex some name besides Houston. But don’t repeat that to Alex! He’s like a little mockingbird. He passes along everything he hears.”

“He’s only a child, Doris. What do you expect?” Ben Houston used the iron poker to lift one of the four lids on the iron kitchen range. He grabbed a couple handfuls of dried corncobs from the tub at the side of the stove and poked them inside the stove. Then he ripped a page from last summer’s Sears and Roebuck catalog to use as kindling, lit it, threw it on top of the cobs, and replaced the iron lid. “We’ll have the fire going in no time and heat up some soup.” He glanced at the catalog. “I’d meant to get this to the outhouse. The Wards one is about gone.” He gave his daughter a devilish look. “Nothing’s left out there but the slick pages. You know, the ones with the high faluting women’s clothes on them. It’s mighty challenging to put up with those rough wads first thing in the morning when your asshole’s kind of tender, anyway.”

“Dad! I’m talking about something serious here!”

“I am, too. Wait until you get hemorrhoids. I’ve heard tell that some people have toilets installed in their houses and use real soft paper to wipe their cracks. That sounds like the lap of luxury to me, especially in the wintertime like it is now.”

“You’d have to have running water coming into the house to have a bathroom. That would take a lot of pipes. We could even have water piped into the kitchen.”

“And replace a perfectly good hand pump at the sink? I remembered when my father roared when he had to have that fool thing put in. But Ma insisted. And when she stomped her foot down, that was it. Pop always said she was as stubborn as any Kraut he’d ever seen.”

“That was just German determination.”

He narrowed his eye at her. “You’ve been listening at the keyhole again.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-three years old! I’m all grown up! And I’m getting married.”

He studied her for a moment. “Yeah, I can see that. Can you tell me why?”

“It’s time. And Alex needs a name.”

“I can’t believe you’re that dedicated to your son. And why to that Cecil Bryant? He’s so dumb, you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes when you ask him a question. And that weird family he’s got stashed away in that old house will come with the deal, you know. Besides that, there’s the matter of bedtime coming around every evening. If I was a woman, I couldn’t stand having Cecil handling me.”

“Well, you’re not the one marrying Cecil, now, are you?” she asked haughtily. 

“Are you cutting your nose off to spite your face, girl?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” But her evasive manner said otherwise.

“If you’re doing this to get back at me, to shame me--”

“You! You!” she lashed out. “Why does it always have to be about you?!”

“I think maybe it’s time I started making it about me. I didn’t know exactly what to do in my own life, but you just helped me make up my mind. I’m getting married again.”

Doris blinked, then recovered. “To that Maude Ellen Allenby? I thought she’d been shining up to you lately at church.”

“Maude Ellen is a respectable widow lady, and I’m lonely. It’s been over a year since your mother passed, and I think it’s time.”

Doris looked wise. “Seems you were sweet on her years ago.”

“I won’t deny that. Then Tom Allenby came along with that devilish grin of his. And then your mother showed up with her German cooking and stuff I‘m not about to share with you. And Maude Ellen and I parted ways. But now we’re both alone again and wanting companionship.”

“And her having two teenage boys doesn’t have anything to do with it?”

“Well, it will be nice to have them to work by my side.”

“And you and your new family will live here?”

“That’s right. Maude Ellen’s married daughter and her man will farm the Allenby home place.”

“Real cozy.” Her eyes hardened. “Where does that leave Alex and me? Out in the cold?”

“This will always be your home. The place will go to you and Alex eventually, anyway. That won’t change. But right now, you might want to live somewhere else, so this marriage of yours couldn‘t come at a better time. Two women in the house might be one too many, and I want Maude Ellen to feel at home here.”

“Of course. It would be inconvenient, wouldn’t it, to have Alex and me underfoot?” she asked with spite.

Ben sighed deeply. “Doris, it’s just the way things are. How’d you get tangled up with Cecil Bryant anyway?”

Doris drew back, almost defensively. “There was a party with a lot of drinking. I went and struck up a conversation with Cecil. He doesn’t go to those things much, and the alcohol went to his head. One thing led to another, and soon he was all over me.” She stopped and let her father fill in the blanks.

Ben’s eyes widened. “Is there another woods colt on the way?”

Tears stung her eyes. “Yes. But don’t call it a woods colt.”

“Cecil is definitely the father?”

Doris crossed her arms, looked down, and nodded.

“Then Heaven help you, girl. There’s something missing upstairs with those people. Your child may be the same way.”

“It’ll be okay, Daddy. I’ll make it so.”

“You planned this, didn’t you? You used woman’s oldest trick and are going to trap that idiot into marriage.”

Doris tossed her head defiantly. “Time to move on, Daddy.”

“Jesus! Well, all I can say is, you made your bed, now you’ll have to lie in it.”

“Thanks, Daddy, I knew you’d be filled with all kinds of sympathy and congratulations for me.”

“Not really. It’s Alex I’m feeling sorry for. He’s got a hell of a life ahead of him. You probably deserve it, but you’re dragging your son down with you. And he’s an innocent lamb. Do you want me to take him?”

“And what would my new mama say? No, Alex is my son, Daddy, and I’ll raise him. One way or the other, I will raise him.”

“Then heaven help the both of you, because you’re in for hell down here.”

 

“This is my son, Cecil,” Doris said as she pushed Alex forward.

She, Alex, and her father Ben were standing on the steps of the church waiting to go in for Sunday services. A marriage ceremony for Doris and Cecil would follow for anybody who wished to attend. 

“Alex, say hello to Cecil.” Doris smiled brightly as she nudged Alex again. “He’s going to be your new father. We‘re going to go live at his place.”

“Hello, Cecil,” Alex mumbled and scuffed the toe of his shoe in the dust.

Doris tightened her hand on Alex‘s arm. “Alex, straighten up. And stop getting your shoes dirty.” She relaxed her hand, but she left a bruise. “Talk to Cecil nice now.”

“It’s okay, Doris,” Cecil Bryant said. “Alex and I are just meeting up. We’re both a little shy, aren’t we, Alex?”

Alex nodded, and almost looked up. Cecil Bryant sounded like a nice, kind man.

“Here comes somebody I want you to meet,” Cecil said. “This is my daughter Polly.”

Alex saw a skinny girl with blonde braids and scabby knees approaching. She looked none too happy with the day‘s events, either. 

“Polly is in the fourth grade this year. You can walk with her to the school house. It’s only half a mile down the road. You’ll have somebody to talk to.”

Polly rolled her eyes. “I’ve been walking with the Foster girls for three years now.”

“Well, this year will be different. Alex is new here and will need help. You will have to help your new brother.”

Polly’s eyes flashed and even Alex could see that she did not want to claim him.  
“That will do, Polly. I’m expecting you to be a good big sister. After all, soon there will be another one for you to take care of, too.”

Alex didn’t know what Cecil meant, but Polly obviously did because she lowered her head and nodded. Her childhood was over. From now on, she had to care for children she despised..  
As they filed into the church, Polly caught Alex’s eye and glared.

 

The Bryant farm wasn’t as prosperous looking as Grandpa’s, but Alex liked it. A deep forest of hardwood trees started a quarter mile beyond the barn, and the whole farm was sheltered by a ring of low hills. The barn and outbuildings were filled farm animals, and Alex spent a great deal of his time with them. He liked animals. They accepted him for what he was to them and nothing else. 

Occasionally, he caught sight of Oscar, Cecil’s older brother, as he peeked around buildings at Alex. Although there was room for him in the house, Oscar preferred to live in a small room in the barn. It had been meant for grain storage, but Oscar had taken his few clothes and other possessions out to the barn years ago and set up residence. He appeared for meals and to listen to the radio, but otherwise he was a loner. He rarely went into town, and Alex had never heard him speak.

Alex was excited when he learned there was a grandmother in the family, but his enthusiasm was soon dampened. She was no Grandma Houston. Grandma Bryant lived by the big iron stove in the daytime and slept in a little room off the kitchen. The former vegetable storage area housed her small iron bed and single dresser with three drawers. A rocking chair stood by the window. A small table holding a Bible and lamp was by the rocker. That was it. 

It was seventeen shuffling steps from her bed to the chair near the kitchen stove. Her world encompassed a thirty by thirty foot area. Outside of the indoor bathroom that was on the other side of the kitchen, she rarely got any further than the doctor’s office occasionally.

In her own way, he was as much of a recluse as her son Oscar. But intelligence gleamed out of her eyes. She always seemed to be sizing a person up. And her talking terrified Alex.

When Alex was introduced to her, Grandma Bryant looked at him with blurry eyes and said, “Did you know that I am related to President Grant?”

Alex shook his head. “No, ma’am, I did not.”

“It was back in Ohio where I grew up. Aunt Myra always talked about Uncle Ulysses. Of course, I never put much stock in her. She was a little touched in the head.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I am also descended from President Tyler.” She gave Alex a wide grin that showed missing teeth. “My husband used to say that I was family proud. Well, with two United States Presidents on my family tree, I had a reason to be. But that’s okay, he was just jealous. He came from a long line of sharecroppers. No account people, but Aaron could turn a girl’s head. He turned mine. My, that man was handsome! Lord love the snakes and crawdaddies! But my daddy warned me that the Bryant family had weak blood in it. But I didn‘t listen. I was young and knew where my heart lay.” She threw out her arm. “And look what it got me. A bunch of misfits.”

“Now, Mama,” Cecil said as he stepped to Alex’s rescue. “Don’t go scaring Alex. He’s had too many changes lately. He needs to get used to us. Be kind to him.”

“Then I’ll tell him something nice.” She looked at Alex. “When my daddy came home from the Civil War, he married his childhood sweetheart and named their first born daughter after a song that he had heard sung around the campfires when he was a soldier. That‘s how I got the name of Lorena.” She chuckled an old woman’s laugh. “Can you believe that someone who looks like me would have a beautiful name like that?”

Alex didn’t know what to say, so he glanced in bewilderment at Cecil.

“That’s okay, Mother,” Cecil soothed. “Here’s some hot tea. Supper will be ready soon.”

“I didn’t get the biscuits made,” the old woman admitted querulously. 

“That’s okay, Mother. Doris is making them.”

“Who the hell is Doris?”

“My wife. Remember, Mother, I told you I was getting married?”

“Never tell an old woman anything,” she muttered as she raised the cup of tea to her cracked lips. 

 

The school year started, and Polly dutifully walked Alex to the one-room school house that stood with its own small grove of trees.

“Oh, and who is this you have with you, Polly?” asked the stout lady with the long dress and glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she looked up from her desk in front of the chalkboard.

“Alexander Bryant, Mrs. Hale,” Polly replied as flatly as she could.

“Oh, this is your new step-brother?” Mrs. Hale inquired.

“He belongs to the woman my dad married,” Polly replied. “She said that he’s in the first grade.” She flounced off to talk with one of the Foster sisters.

“Well, Alexander, shall we find a desk for you? There are five other people in your class, so you can make a lot of new friends.”

Alex enjoyed having someone to play with, but he didn’t make any friends. These were children who had grown up together. Most of them were related to each other. Alex was definitely an outsider, and he felt like it.

 

As the autumn progressed, even Alex could tell that his mother’s mid-section was thickening. And deep within a January blizzard she gave birth to a baby boy they named Jonathan.

Jonathan was sickly and not very responsive right from the first, and Doris fretted over him.

“He isn’t alert the way Alex was,” she complained to Cecil.

And Cecil, who’d seen many family babies acting the same way and had buried a couple of his own, stood mute. The Bryant blood was thinning worse.

When Jonathan was ten months old, he died. And something died in Doris: her connection to the Bryant family.

 

A week after Jonathan’s funeral, Doris awakened Alex and together they sneaked out of the sleeping Bryant house. A man was waiting in a car, a man and a car that Alex didn’t know, but a car ride was always exciting. Doris had their clothes packed, though, and that meant they were leaving. Alex would miss the farm animals and Cecil who had been kind to him. He would not miss the bitter Polly or the strange Grandma Bryant or the stranger Oscar. He wouldn’t even miss the brother that he’d never gotten to know, but he did recognize the hollow spot where Jonathan and the promise of any future relationship with his broken had been. That connection was forever gone, also.

As the car rolled along through the night, Alex was rocked to sleep by the swaying of the model-T on the rutty road and by the low murmur of his mother’s laughter. She hadn’t sounder this happy in a long time.

When he awoke, he was in Texas and he had a new father. Or so his mother said.


	6. No Looking Back.  No Regrets.

Chet turned out to be a wrangler on a ranch in the Texas hill country. How his mother had ever met him, Alex didn’t know, but he loved being on the ranch. Several other children lived there, and Alex became just one more of a noisy flock of Mexican and American kids playing and attending school together. The one-room schoolhouse down the dusty road was like the one in Missouri, except more decrepit and lonelier. But Alex loved it because he was carefree, happy, and enjoying everyday. He did miss green grass in the summer and Grandfather all the time, but he mimicked his mother who told him, “No looking back. No regrets,” and lived for today.

Alex celebrated his eighth birthday by riding bareback with Chet on a horse beside him. Alex had liked Cecil because of his kindness, but he loved Chet because of the horses. He tried not to notice the occasional smell of alcohol on Chet’s breath or bruises on his mother‘s arms and face. Sometimes Chet was extra nice to Doris and Alex after he’d hurt Doris.

They attended the county fair that autumn with its displays of garden produce, livestock, and homemade quilts. Alex ate cotton candy and hot dogs until Doris was afraid he’d get sick. But he didn’t, not even when he rode the tilt-a-whirl at the carnival also featured at the fair. He did scrape his knee getting off the ride, however. And while Doris was trying to doctor it for him, the tilt-a-whirl operator offered her a bandage and tape. When Doris accepted the assistance, she looked up at the operator and noticed how good looking he was.

When the carnival left town a few days later, Doris and Alex went with them. In fact, they left at what was becoming their favorite time of departure: in the middle of the night. Once again an old vehicle was waiting for them a short distance from the house. Alex was not surprised to see that the driver was the good-looking operator of the tilt-a-whirl. 

Once again, Alex went to sleep in the back of the car as it rolled through the night. And once again, Doris sat up front and laughed with the driver. It was as if she was enjoying the adventure of stealing away in the middle of the night. And she probably did.

They stayed with the carnival until the end of the season. Then they headed to Florida where Johnny, the tilt-a-whirl operator, was hoping to hook up with circus people at their winter quarters. Johnny didn’t make it into the circus, but Doris did as a caretaker of costumes. Johnny found work in the citrus groves, and the three of them enjoyed the winter away from the snow and northern cold.

When the spring came, Johnny drifted away from them with another carnival, and Doris and Alex followed the circus. They bid Johnny farewell with thanks and blessings. He had been a good friend, but already he had caught the eye of the snake charmer from the carnival. His bed wouldn’t be lonely for very long, unless he minded sharing it with a boa constrictor.

The circus took Doris and Alex all over the Deep South and into the Midwest. Alex attended school sporadically over the next few years, but learned a lifetime of practical knowledge and lore of the circus people whose skills and backgrounds were as varied as the animals and acts of the circus.

Somewhere during the second summer, Doris became a clown and Alex occasionally put on makeup and joined her and the other clowns in the ring.

In a few short years Alex had experienced the dreams of a lot of children. He had lived on a ranch and ridden horses, and he had run away from home and joined the circus. Such were the dreams of children, but what was his mother’s excuse? She was past thirty, but had no plans to settle down. Alex certainly wasn’t going to persuade her to change, either. He was having too much fun.

 

It was the Roaring Twenties, and everyone was on the high ride of prosperity. Women in cloche hats and dresses with long waists called themselves flappers and danced the jitterbug. Bathtub gin and illegal alcohol were awash in the streets. Alex loved the silent motion pictures, and there always somebody from the circus who was willing to take him. He thought nothing of being escorted by Hindus or Africans or Malaysians, but his group drew stares wherever they went. But it didn’t bother Alex. They were his friends and in many ways, his family.

One summer the circus stopped at Springfield, Missouri, and Alex thought of his grandfather who lived close by. He hoped he would see him, and during the performance on the second evening, and he did. Ben Houston was sitting with Maude Ellen and some of her grandchildren. Alex tumbled and jumped with the rest of the clowns, glanced at his grandfather whenever he could, and wondered if his mother had seen her father.

After the performance Alex slipped outside and mingled with the crowd as other clowns did. He steadily worked his way toward Ben.

“Oh, look, Grandma!” the little girl squealed. “The midget wants to play with me!”

“He’s not a midget, dear. He might not like that name. You don’t want to hurt his feelings, do you? He’s a little person.“ Maude Ellen smiled indulgently, but kept a tight hand on her granddaughter. “This is Bonnie,” she said to Alex. “What is your name, young man?”

Alex was afraid his grandfather would recognize his voice, so he placed his gloved hands at the sides of his face and rocked his head back and forth. “Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” he answered.

Bonnie laughed. “He’s funny, Grandpa Ben!”

Ben smiled. “That he is.” He gazed into Alex’s eyes, then his smile disappeared and his face paled. “What the--”

“What’s wrong, Ben?” Maude Ellen asked in alarm. “Are you ill? You look like you‘ve seen a ghost.”

Ben was still staring. “Alex? Is that you? But, but how--”

“Alex? Alex who?” Maude Ellen’s hand fluttered to her ample throat. “Oh, Ben, you don’t mean?! Oh, Ben, is this your grandson?!”

Alex threw his arms around his grandfather and squeezed as tightly as he could. Ben returned the fierce hug.

Ben shoved Alex back to look at him. “My God, boy, how have you been? You’ve grown taller than the last time I saw you.”

“I’m still no pussy, Grandpa!”

Ben laughed for joy and hugged Alex again. “Lord Almighty, I’m happy to see you!”

“Does Grandpa Ben know the mid-- little person, Grandma?”

Maude Ellen wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes, darling, he does.”

“What are you doing in a clown getup?” Ben looked around. “Is your mother here, too?”

“Yes, I am,” answered an adult clown as she stepped away from the edge of the circus tent and grabbed Alex’s hand. “Come on.”

“Doris, wait. Are you needing anything? Are you and Alex doing okay?”

An assortment of circus people had gathered behind Doris. “I’m among friends. We watch out for each other.”

“Is Alex going to school?”

“The world is his school. He’ll be all right.”

“Doris, I’d like it if you’d come home for a visit once in awhile. It’s still your home, you know. If you don’t want to see me, I can understand. But at least let Alex and me see each other.”

“Don’t you see that you’ve just given me some power over you, Daddy?” she asked with a smirk. “By denying you Alex’s love, I’m denying you what you denied me all those years I was growing up.”

“You’d waste your life getting back at me because you think I wronged you? What are you going to have at the end of your life except a lot of built up hate?”

She smiled in triumph. “Satisfaction.”

“I wish you luck with that one, girl, because satisfaction can be a mighty cold bed.”

She tugged on Alex’s arm and turned away. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Let me take the boy so he can go to school and have a stable home,” Ben called after her. “Alex didn’t ask to have his life ruined, too. He needs to build for his future. You might not want strings, but he needs them. He‘s got to have papers, Doris. Diplomas. A history. Or he‘ll never amount to anything.”

Alex looked back at his grandfather, but Doris urged him forward. “Don’t look back at him. Remember? No strings? No regrets?”

They left town that night in the wee hours after midnight just like always, but there wasn’t a nice man in a vehicle waiting for them. This time Doris grabbed only a few belongings and shoved Alex on an outbound freight. She didn’t even take time to grab any money, so they were friendless and broke as they flew eastward out of town in the draughty freight car with only the train whistle for company. But its unearthly wail in the still night gave them no comfort.

By the second night they had crossed the Mississippi and were in the very tip of Illinois. That’s where the railroad policeman climbed inside and found them huddled in the shadows in the back of the car.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” the burly man demanded.

“Leave us alone,” Doris demanded as she shoved Alex behind her.

“Now, why should I do that, little missy? You’re breaking the law. If you’d paid your fare, you’d be riding up in a coach. No, looks like I’ve caught me a couple of lawbreakers.”

“Let us ride. Please. It won’t hurt you any.”

The man looked her up and down. “Well, we might be able to negotiate. If you can come up with the price of two fares.”

“I have no money,” she said calmly, but Alex could feel her shaking.

He gave her a lewd grin. “There’s other methods of payment.”

“Please. My young son is here.”

“About time he was finding out how he got here.” He pointed out the open door where farmsteads were passing by. “Either that, or out you both go. Now.”

Doris gripped Alex’s arm. “We’d get killed!”

“Either that, or be nice to me.” He grinned. “I’ve been told I’m something of a killer myself. It isn’t just my chest that is big. I know how to satisfy the ladies.”

Making her choice, Doris stepped forward and smiled. “I bet you do.” 

“Mom--”

“Hush, Alex. You go sit in the far corner and don’t listen. I want to talk with this, ah, gentleman for awhile. Come on, if you must,” she said to the man.

“Hold on. This negotiation will cover only your fare.”

Doris paled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the boy has to pay for his own ride. And it might take a long time for him to satisfy me. In fact, he might have to oblige me first. He‘s pretty good looking.” He leered at Alex. “I like boys where they’re pretty like that. And frail looking.”

“What kind of animal are you?!”

“The kind that’s got all the cards in his hand. You know, maybe a three-way would be more fun. And more educational for the kid. Come on, sonny, let’s get going. You‘re about to learn the facts of life from your mama and the man who can take you both on.”

“No! Alex, run!” She grabbed the man to keep him from Alex.

“Now, where in the hell is he going to run?”

“Alex, jump!”

“Are you crazy?! He’ll get killed!”

“I don’t care! I’d rather he died than, than you got a hold of him!”

Alex stood at the open door of the boxcar and looked back at his mother struggling to keep the man from getting close to Alex. But the man was strong and dragged Doris along.

At the door the man grabbed for Alex, and Alex ducked. The man reached out again, lost his balance, teetered on the edge of the boxcar, and started to fall out, dragging Doris with him. Alex tackled his mother, breaking the man’s grip on her and falling to the floor with her. The man screamed and disappeared outside of the railroad car, then all was quiet except for the sounds of the freight train.

Doris and Alex clung to each other and wept in fright and relief. At the next big town, they got off the death train and to see what Louisville, Kentucky, had to offer them.

“We didn’t kill that man, Alex,” she said as they trudged along in the early morning streets. “We were merely instruments of the Lord.”

But Alex wondered if she was trying to convince him, or herself.

 

“Come on, Alex. Time to leave,” Doris urged as she hustled Alex out the hotel room door.

“What about that nice man?” He looked back at the form passed out on the bed.

“He isn’t going anywhere until sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

“He promised me a bicycle and a puppy.”

“Yeah? Well, some men talk big. It‘d be a long time before you saw those things from him, if ever,” she answered as they scurried down the hallway toward the backstairs. “Besides, he’s got a wife and kids somewhere. I saw their picture in his wallet.”

“Did he loan us some money?”

She looked quickly behind them, then started down the stairs. “Yeah. That’s what he did.” She took the time to stop halfway down and take Alex by the shoulders so he faced her. “Look, he got his money’s worth out of us. We stopped him from being by himself for awhile. You drank his soda pop and I drank his cheap whiskey. Or so he thought,” she breathed the last part almost to herself. “We gave him a good time and had a few laughs with him. He was a lonely salesman. For a few hours we were his family, and we made him feel better. Don’t you think we should get paid for our services? There’s more than one way to be a prostitute,“ she said to herself again. “Everybody has a price, Alex. That guy just found out what his is. He learned his lesson tonight.“

“What was that, Mama?“ he asked as they clattered down the stairs.

“That there’s no place like home. He’ll appreciate his family more now.” She pushed him through the front door and hurried him down the sidewalk. Then under a streetlight, she stopped him again. “Come on, kiddo, let’s go catch a bus to somewhere. Anywhere! There’s adventure waiting for us out there, and it’s ours to grab!” She started walking fast again. “You know, our last name should be Stone. Because we’re like stones, always rolling along. And you know what they say about rolling stones. They gather no moss.” 

Then Doris laughed like someone demented. And the streetlights cast eerie shadows across her face making her look not only ugly, but inhuman.

Alex shivered by what he saw. If he would have known the word and what it meant, he would have said the scene seemed surreal.


	7. Homeward Bound For Trenton

The bus took them to a pleasant little town in western Pennsylvania, but they didn’t stay there very long. Too small for opportunities, Doris said. A month later she decided to move on. A lot of folks were on the road during the Depression, so people didn’t pay them much attention.

They finally landed in Philadelphia. She found work as a waitress, and Alex was able to go to school again. But this was no one-room country school building with a few students. Hundreds of children attended the four story brick buildings that covered nearly two city blocks. Testing showed Alex to be in the third grade, although he was older than most of his classmates. Erratic school attendance had put him behind. But he worked hard and was ready for the fifth grade the following fall.

But once again they left in the middle of the night, this time to escape Doris’s belligerent boyfriend. Alex couldn’t even remember the man’s name. Rod something-or-other. Once again they found themselves afoot with only a handful of possession and clothing. Doris’s old battered suitcase was almost falling apart, but still they traveled.

Alex was a veteran of this kind of living and was beginning to think nothing of it. He’d made few friends at the brick school in Philadelphia. Several boys had been good pals to him, and he liked to go exploring strange neighborhoods or playing stick ball with them. Each time their play broke up, though, he said goodbye to them because he never knew if he would see them again. It was a good plan.

Still as he and his mother trudged into the night on their flight out of Philadelphia, Alex had an ache in his heart because he knew he would never see Ernie and Dave again. And this was the day they’d planned to sneak into the zoo. Alex had told them about traveling with the circus and the fun he’d had with the performers. He could tell that they thought he was making up his circus adventures, but they’d wanted to believe that Alex had lived every kid’s dream.

Then Alex squared his shoulders as they passed sleeping tenements shrouded in shadows. He was with his mother, and that was all that mattered. There would be other kids in other towns. There always had been. There always would be.

They flagged down an eastbound truck near morning. As they climbed aboard, Alex hoped the driver was a nice person and that they wouldn’t have to kill him, too.

Clifford Larkin was a hearty, six-foot guy with a wide grin and curly brown hair. It was almost like he was having an adventure out here on the road, too.

“Where you headed?” he asked Doris.

“Where you going?”

“I’m homeward bound for Trenton, New Jersey.”

“Well, that’s where we’re headed then.”

He glanced at the small suitcase. “Traveling light?”

Doris flashed her most enthusiastic look. “Best way to travel, don’t you think? No looking back. No regrets. That‘s my motto. And it‘s been good to me.”

Larkin maneuvered the truck around a sharp curve. “Don’t find too many woman willing to give up their houses full of gimcracks to hit the road. You‘re one of a kind.”

“Well, with the country in a depression, we have to play the cards dealt to us, don’t we?” She glanced at Alex. “My son and I are looking for a fresh start. We’re hoping to find it in the East.”

“The whole darn country is needing a fresh start. I’m hoping President Roosevelt is successful with his New Deal. We sure need a jumpstart.” He glanced at Alex. “Your son seems to have fallen asleep. Why don’t you get some rest, too?”

Doris looked uncertain.

“You’re safe with me, ma’am. I won’t let anything hurt you, or your boy. I promise.”

Something about the man made Doris feel like he was telling her the truth. She decided to trust him.

“Thank you. I will.” She pulled Alex against her and was soon sound asleep as the truck continued its solitary journey down the country road.

 

Doris awoke when the truck slowed to a crawl to pull into a driveway. Dawn was just starting to streak the eastern sky.

“Where are we?” Doris asked.

“My house. I see a light on upstairs. My wife must be attending to the baby.”

“You have a child?”

“A daughter,” he said proudly and his teeth flashed in the light from the truck’s dashboard. He turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. “Her name is Penny. She’s been having teething problems.”

“I felt sorry for Alex when he went through that. I wish I could remember what my mother put on his gums. It always made him stop fussing. Probably some remedy from the old country.”

Larkin paused with the truck door open. “The old country?”

“Germany. Her folks came across.”

“My grandparents are from England and Ireland. We’re all children of immigrants in this country. That’s what make this country great. That’s what will keep it great. Work hard and keep noses clean. That’s all it takes.”

Doris smiled. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I don’t know about that,“ Larkin said modestly. “I just know what I see on the road.” He got out of the truck and walked around to the other side of the cab. “Here, let me take your son.”

“He’s too big for you to carry.”

“Nonsense!” Larkin said jovially. “I pack around cement blocks all day and heavier stuff than that.” He lifted Alex in his arms and started toward the house. “Watch your step. It’s dark here in the yard, and the sidewalk has some cracks in it.”

“I’ll be okay. You just watch so you don’t hurt yourself. Alex looks skinny, but he‘s no sack of feathers.”

“I’ll be fine, little miss. You know, a lot of people wouldn’t admit having ancestors who arrived so recently from Germany. Not since the war. And now this Hitler fellow is making a racket again over there. I hope we don’t have to go teach him a lesson, too.”

Doris was glad that Larkin couldn’t see her smile. “I think as long as men are around, we’ll always have wars and football games. I shouldn’t be telling a guy this, but men always have to be testing themselves and each other.”

Larkin shrugged despite his load. “That’s the way we are. Just like you women like to establish a home.” He opened the back door of the small house and switched on a dim, naked light bulb. “Be careful in here. The floor’s a little uneven. The house has settled and I think there isn’t one straight line in it. Sometimes you feel like a drunken sailor walking on the deck of a pitching ship.” 

Doris noticed the slight dip to her right as she entered the kitchen. She looked quickly around. The light didn’t quite reach the far corners, but the room had the feel of comfortable closeness about it. It felt like a home.

Larkin set Alex down in a wooden chair at the kitchen table.

Alex looked up sleepily, frowned at his strange surroundings, lay his head on the flowery oilcloth, moaned, and went back to sleep.

“We’ve been meaning to fix the place up, as soon as money loosens up a little bit again. That‘s bound to happen any day now. The house is pretty shabby, but I hate to leave this place. I grew up here. It’s home.”

Doris tried to see the room with his eyes. She knew what it was like to grow up in one place, but she didn’t share his nostalgia, especially for this one. It simply looked shabby to her.

Soft footsteps fell just outside the darkened door that led into the rest of the house. Larkin and Doris looked toward the door.

“Are you talking to yourself again, Clifford? I’d swear you’re getting to be an old--“ A small woman dressed in a robe and house shoes appeared in the doorway and stopped short. She looked up at Doris suspiciously. “Oh. I didn‘t know we had company.”

Clifford gave his wife a big, foolish grin. “Look what followed me home, Maw.”

“Don’t call me Maw,” she directed as she approached Doris. She never took her eyes off Doris as she eyed her suspiciously. “I’m not your mother.”

“But you are Penny’s Maw.“ Clifford glanced at Doris. “This lady is down on her luck, Kate. I gave her a ride.”

“Where you headed?” Kate demanded.

“I don’t know. I’m looking for work.”

“Aren’t we all? There’s nothing for you here. You best be moving on.”

“Kate, you can’t be throwing her out so early. She needs to rest. Let her freshen up and eat some food.“

“There’s barely enough here for us, Clifford.“

“Kate. Honey. I know what you’re thinking, and it wasn’t like that at all. Kate, honey, I wouldn’t do anything like that again. Especially since we got our lucky Penny.”

Doris looked down in assumed shame. “That’s all right, Mr. Larkin. You’ve done enough. We’ll be on our way.”

“We?” Kate echoed.

“Yes. Me and my son.” She nodded toward Alex.

“A boy,” Kate said in wonder as she looked down on Alex. “I hadn’t seen him sitting there.”

All three looked down at the sleeping child with the side of his head squashed against the oilcloth on the wooden table. His mouth was slightly open and draining, and his eyes were screwed tightly shut in slumber.

Kate gently wiped scattered light brown hair off Alex’s forehead and fell deeply in love. Her dark eyes and lean face softened as she gazed down at the sleeping boy.

“Poor little thing. He’s exhausted.” She looked up at Doris and Clifford. “There’s no way you weary folks can be expected to leave here. Clifford, carry the boy up to our bed. His mother will be up as soon as I can get a bite of breakfast in her.” She watched her husband gather the limber child in his arms. “We’ll get you one like that, Clifford. Just you wait.”

“You know I’m satisfied with our Penny.”

“A man should have a son. It’s your right.” She turned to Doris. “I’m Kate Larkin. What do I call you?”

“Doris. Doris Bryant.” She nodded at the disappearing Clifford. “And that’s my son Alex.”

“Alex. A good name. Alexander. Named for a hero.” She gathered herself up. “Come on, let’s fix breakfast. It‘ll be good to have a woman to talk to for awhile.”

 

Doris was lucky to get a waitress job and moved her and Alex into a small apartment down the street from the Larkin’s. But they were often at the Larkin home which pleased everyone, including Baby Penny who cooed with glee whenever she saw them.

Alex entered the Trenton School system and quickly caught up with the other fifth grade students.

Alex and Doris were at the Larkin home several months later during a harsh rain storm. Clifford was expected at any moment.

Doris was passing through the living room when the doorbell rang.

“Get that, will you, Doris?” Kate called out from the kitchen. “Alex and I are busy with this chicken. Maybe it‘s Clifford. I don‘t know why he didn‘t come in the back way, though.”

Doris opened the door to find a New Jersey highway patrolman standing on the front step. She was stunned, then quickly ushered him inside out of the rain.

“Thank you, ma’am,” the officer said, touching his dripping hat, then removing it. “Are you Mrs. Larkin?”

Doris started to shake her head.

“Doris? Who was it?” Kate asked as she appeared in the kitchen door, wiping her hands on her apron. She stopped when she saw the patrolman.

Doris looked at her with fear in her eyes. “He wants to see you, Kate.”

Kate stepped forward as if she were sleepwalking. “Yes?”

Doris took her hand, and they faced the patrolman together.

“Ma’am, I have some bad news for you. There‘s been an accident.”

Kate clutched Doris’s hand.

“Is he alive?”

“No, ma’am. He passed away at the scene.”

Kate seemed to wilt.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Your husband’s truck skidded on the wet pavement, and--”

Doris held Kate up as she spoke to the patrolman. “That’s enough. That’s all I need to know. He’s gone, and now there’s nothing left to do but to bury him. Thank you.” She looked at the patrolman and at the wedding band on his hand. “Married?“

“Yes, ma’am. Seven months tomorrow.“

“You go on home to your wife now,” she said calmly. Then her face turned ugly, and she screamed at him, “But you drive carefully!” When he didn’t immediately answer her, she took a threatening step toward him. “Do you hear me, boy?!”

The patrolman backed toward the door. “Yes, ma’am.” He opened the door and placed his hat on his head. “Sorry, ma’am.” He nodded at Doris. “Does she have any family?”

“I’ll stay with her. We’re her family now. Goodnight, Officer. And you be careful, so we don‘t have to worry about you, too.”

“Yes, ma‘am, I will.” He touched the brim of his hat with his hand. “Ma’am.” Then he was gone.

The two women sat on the sofa, the chicken forgotten.

 

Deep in the night, Kate roused Doris. “Help me. I think I’ve had a miscarriage.”

Doris sat up in bed, bleary-eyed. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve had them before. There’s blood everywhere. Too much of a shock, I suppose. Get me to the hospital. Penny can’t lose both of her parents in one night.” She sucked her breath in. “And her brother. I know it was a boy. I just know it. Clifford’s son missed his daddy, and now they’re together in Heaven.”

“I am sorry, Kate.”

“Don’t be, honey. It’s the way it was meant to be. We were having too much happiness, and God wanted some of that up there with Him in Heaven. I can’t begrudge Him that.” She frowned. “But what are we going to do for happiness down here?”

“Why, we’ll just find it, Kate,” Doris reassured her. “That’s all we can do. We are strong women, and we will find our share of happiness.” She gave Kate a shaky smile as she helped Kate into her coat. “You just watch our dust.” She gave Kate a quick hug. “It’s going to be glorious!”


	8. Doris and Kate

Life was tough for the two friends after Clifford died. They never had known what it was like to live in the lap of luxury, so they knew how to be thrifty.. But their existence entered a new realm of hardship without a man in the house or the prospect that one was expected home at any time. 

But there was one thing that Doris and Kate knew had to do, and that was to work. Both women had sprung from the working classes. Doris was descended from English immigrant dirt scrabbling farmers who had scratched out a living in the Appalachian Mountains for generations, then had gradually scattered ever westward in search of better soil to till and rarely finding it. Kate’s people were lower class factory workers existing in rundown tenements in a immigrant section of a large East Coast city. Her people had been Slavic Eastern Europeans who had mixed with Irish, English, and the native Indians along the Eastern Seaboard.

In its first one hundred and fifty years, America was a mainly rural nation where people had either grown up on farms or their parents had. When the economy began to change in the early Twentieth Century from agricultural to industrial, people migrated to the cities for a more urban life. With modern machinery, it took fewer people to work the farms, so they had to find alternative means to supporting themselves.

Society was different back in 1930s America, too. Women didn’t live by themselves. Well, at least respectable women didn’t as they did in later generations. The Second World War did a lot to change attitudes. Men went off to battle, and women were forced to step up and take over positions in the job force previously restricted to men. And each succeeding generation has added to women’s independence as the world, and women themselves, have learned to look at themselves differently.

But all of that change and the acceptance of that change was years down the road. Now two single mothers had to survive on their own in a world that was pretty much still run by men.

 

Doris managed to get a waitress job for Kate at the same place where she worked. The women rotated shifts so that one of them could be home with the children at all times. Life became a rotation of work, worry, and crushing loneliness.

Then came the day that Doris called her father back in Oklahoma.

“Dad? Yeah, it’s me, Doris.” She did a mental groan. Who else the hell would it be if she called him ‘Dad’? 

“Yeah, Alex is fine. We’re both fine. Listen, that’s why I called. Things are a little tight around here, and I was wondering if I could send Alex back to you for a little while. Yeah, I thought you’d like that,” she muttered. “Yeah, that way he could get some regular schooling, just like you‘ve always said.” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, some regular meals, too.” She listened a moment. “No, things aren’t that hard. I’ll make out fine on my own. Yes, I know the invitation is open for me, too.” She also knew she wanted some free time with Andy, that cute guy she’d just met at-- “I’ll let you know when he’s coming. Yeah. Bye.” 

She hung up the phone and turned, feeling half-guilty and half-relieved. She squared her shoulders, tossed her hair, and went to find Alex.

The kitchen was overly warm and steamy as the glass jars in the big kettles on the wood-burning stove jiggled merrily away. Alex loved to watch the bubbles rise up and around the green beans as they cooked the vegetables for winter consumption. But Kate wouldn’t let him sit too closely in fear one of the processing jars might explode and scald him. That’s why he sat at the wooden kitchen table coloring a rabbit gray on a sheet of paper, but sneaking peeks at the jars. He was coloring the picture as a surprise for Baby Penny who at three and a half quite precocious and thought that Alex was her big brother.

“Were you talking to someone on the phone?” Kate asked as she straightened and wiped wisps of stringy hair back from her face.

“Yeah,” Doris answered as she dug a soda cracker out of the bowl.

“Mama, you’re not supposed to eat between meals.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” she said as she guiltily replaced the cracker. “No use having rules if I don’t follow them myself, right?” She stole a quick glance at Alex and breathed deeply.

Kate frowned. “Doris? Is something wrong?”

“No, not really,” she answered as she fumbled with the collar of her print dress. “I, ah, just asked my father if Alex could live with him for awhile.”

Alex beamed.. “Wow! What did he say?”

“He said, ah, okay.”

“Oh, boy! Grandpa’s!” He hesitated and his smile faded. “Are you going, too?”

“No, Alex, I, ah, have to stay here and work.”

“There’s jobs back home.”

“I know, but I like this one.” She broke her furtive glance and looked away. That was no better. She’d found Kate’s eyes, and they didn’t look happy. In fact, they were downright angry.

“What’s the problem, Doris? Aren’t we making do here?”

“Yeah, but we’re not getting ahead. I thought, if Alex wasn’t here, I could take another job and save more.”

“So you could get a little ahead and send for him later.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she said with relief in her voice. “I’d save up and send for him later. The days would pass in no time.”

Kate glanced at Alex and saw that he was torn with indecision. He loved being at Grandpa’s and the life on the farm, but he hated the thought of leaving Kate and Penny and mostly his mother.

But it wasn’t his decision to make.

“You’ll go next week,” Doris announced, and that was that.

 

On Tuesday, the four of them stood on the railroad platform. Kate held Baby Penny a few steps away from mother and son. Alex wore his second best clothes and carried his others in a small cardboard suitcase. 

“Now, you be a good boy and don’t talk to strangers. Remember to eat some soup and oatmeal and fruit everyday and not any sweets if you want your money to last. Grandpa will pick you up in Springfield in four days. Remember to be polite and remember that he has a different woman with him who is in charge of the house now.”

“Yes, Mama,” he muttered. He wanted this nightmare to all be over so they could go home and be with Kate and Penny again.

“Now, the train people will look out after you, but you aren’t to make trouble for them. Don’t act like a stupid kid. If you get them mad at you, they won’t take care of you the way they should.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“All aboard for Cincinnati, St. Louis, and points west!” the conductor yelled. “All aboard for points west!”

“Now, come along. Don’t tarry,” Doris said crisply as she began shoving him. “Time to get on the train.” She hustled him along to the steps. 

Alex barely had time to catch a glimpse at Kate and Penny as he was pushed aboard the train.

“Springfield, Missouri, conductor,” Doris told the conductor.

“Ah, this is our plucky young man!” the conductor said in a half-friendly, half-businesslike voice. “Come along and find a seat in this car. I’ll be in to see you in a few minutes.”

“This is his ticket,” Doris said handing the paper to the conductor.

“Thank you, ma’am. Now, don’t you worry none. Alex here will be fine.”

Doris looked at Alex and breathed deeply. “Yes, I know he will. I raised him to be a survivor. He knows how to roll with the punches, or he wouldn’t be his mother’s son.” She planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, then held him back at arm’s length. “You’ll be fine.”

She started down the steps, then turned with determination in the set of her jaw and a twinkle in her eyes. “It’s an adventure, Alex. And always remember our motto. No looking back, no regrets.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Doris turned, jumped to the platform, and ran toward the direction where Kate stood holding Baby Penny. She, indeed, did not look back. And for all that Alex knew, she had no regrets.

“Goodbye, Mama,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“Come on, son,” the conductor said. “It’s time for you to find a seat. You don‘t want to moving about until the train gets started good. There can be some jumping around. You could fall.”

Alex wanted to tell the conductor that he knew all about how trains acted and what can happen on them. He wanted to tell the conductor how he had helped his mother to murder a man, but the conductor wouldn’t have believed him.

“Come along, son. Time’s wasting.”

Alex turned and stepped into his future while his mother hurried unseen into hers.

Alex never saw his mother again.

 

Grandpa Houston was indeed waiting for Alex when he stepped off the train at Springfield.

“Alex?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Looks like you grown some more while you were gone.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You remember Maude Ellen, my wife?” he asked, indicating a short, plump woman standing on the other side of him.

“Yes, sir. Ma’am,” he nodded at the woman.

The woman nodded nervously back. “Alex. I hope you like it with your grandfather and me.”

“I’m sure I will ma’am.” He felt like he was ready from a script, but so did the other two. It couldn’t be easy for middle aged people to take on the responsibilities of a half-grown boy.

“Here, let me take your suitcase for you.”

“That’s alright, Grandpa. I’ve packed it his far.”

“That you have,” said Grandpa Houston, taking his measure. “My arthritis has been acting up, so I shouldn’t be toting anything anyway. You know what they say, don’t you?” he asked with a grin. “‘You gotta watch out for those Ritis boys, especially that Arthur.’”

“Oh, Ben,” Maude Ellen cautioned.

“It’s okay, hon. It’s clean. The boy better start hearing stories. It’ll make him into a man.”

“So will sorghum molasses and rot gut liquor, but he ain’t having any of that last one for awhile. I‘ll make certain of that.” She took Alex‘s measure, too. “Seems he needs some fattening up. Sunday School on Sunday, chores morning and night, plain, simple food and lots of it, walking the straight and narrow. That‘s what we‘ll give him.”

Grandpa Houston winked at Alex. “And with that, boy, you have been adopted by one cussed, mean woman.”

“And he’s got the whip marks to prove it.”

Then the married couple looked at each other and laughed.

 

Maybe, if life would have treated him differently, Maude Ellen would’ve done a lot of things to improve Alex. But suddenly, and without warning, she, too, was gone.

It didn’t happen until Alex’s second year with Ben and Maude Ellen, but it was devastating. Ben withdrew from life and couldn’t really watch Alex. And by the time Ben, and the law, noticed, the damage had been done.

Alex had been riding with older boys who were out racing their hot rods late at night on back country roads. It had all been rather harmless with some drinking as teenage boys will do, and the law had looked the other way. Hell, even they had been kids themselves and remembered what it was like to have to blow off a little steam. 

Nobody minded much at all until the fateful night that the inevitable wreck happened. And, of course, the most innocent participant that night was the one to be killed. A high school freshman boy, son of poor farmers, had sneaked out for a little fun and paid for his adventure with his life. His parents, when told of the fatal crash, couldn’t believe it. They thought their son was asleep in bed.

Alex had a few cuts and bruises and a black eye. The judge asked who was available to take over the care of the boy since the grandfather was needing care for himself at the moment. No one stepped forward. So Doris was contacted. She said for Alex to come ahead, and the Missouri authorities didn’t argue. They seemed happy enough to be shed of the troublesome boy. Like many other boys his age, he was too bad to keep around, but not bad enough to go to jail.

Once again, almost three years from the day that Alex had journeyed west by train, he was traveling east back to New Jersey. He had bid his grandfather farewell at the Springfield, Missouri and figured he would never see that old man again. Ben Houston had a long way to come back, and so did Alex.

 

Alex expected his mother to be at the train station, but Kate was there, instead.

“Kate! Oh, Kate!” he said as she swept him up. When they finally broke their tearful reunion, Alex stared at the shy, half-grown girl beside her. He looked at Kate. “Penny? Is this Baby Penny?” 

“Don’t call me that!” the girl said belligerently. 

Kate and Alex laughed.

“I don’t know you!” the little girl continued.

“Well, I know you,” Alex assured her. “I used to change your diaper.”

The girl made a face. “Ugh!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Alex said with a laugh, and from then on he and Penny were friends again.

“Where’s my mom?” Alex asked, looking around.

“Alex, there’s been some trouble with her.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“We should go sit down somewhere. Get something to eat. A soda pop, perhaps.”

“Kate, what kind of trouble?”

“She’s in a hospital, Alex. She’s real bad.”

His face whitened. “What happened to her?”

“Cancer. She didn’t want you to know.”

“But, but, but she was on the telephone to Grandpa!”

“I know.”

“I must go to her!”

“No, Alex. She doesn’t want you to see her this way.”

“But, but, but, she’s my mother! I don‘t care what she looks like!”

“I know, honey, I know. But she cares. And she doesn’t want you to have that memory. She said to tell you no looking back, no regrets.”

Alex said an expletive then, one that he had heard Grandpa Ben use occasionally, and Kate didn’t correct him. She must’ve figured that he was man enough to know when it was appropriate to use it. He never again used it around her or Baby Penny.

So Alex respected his mother’s wishes and didn’t go to see her on her deathbed. In a way, that made it easier for Alex. Weeks later, it was just a box containing some memories that Alex and Kate saw lowered into the cemetery on Bleeker’s Hill. Kate shed some tears, but Alex didn't. No looking back, no regrets, his mother had always told him. It seemed like a fitting epitaph. And wonderful advice. Who else had received such a rich legacy? Doris had given him a philosophy and a way to live life. He was rich indeed.

It was shortly after this that Kate married Rocky Parker and became half owner in a tavern. Kate, Penny, and Alex turned their backs on the little house that was little more than a shack and moved to the suburbs.

One day, Rocky heard Alex calling Kate ‘Maw’ and he loved it so much that he rechristened his tavern ‘Maw’s Sleazy Bar.’ Rocky thought that it was such a good joke that Kate did not have the heart to raise a fuss. 

And that’s how ‘Maw’s Sleazy Bar’ found a home in Trenton, New Jersey, and so did Alex Bryant, the boy with no real last name and no real family. But he figured he was one of the luckiest people on Earth. He had people who loved him, and not everyone has that.


	9. Old Guys Shouldn't Be Doing This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Near the end of this Chapter is the start of Part III. DAYS OF GLORY with an introduction to Alex's Army days in Europe.

Alex Bryant felt each bounce of the bus as it crawled eastward across northern France. He was feeling every one of the twenty-five years since he had last been in this area back in 1945. Although he knew the Europeans had given the veterans a luxury motor coach with even a self-contained toilet to cater to the Americans, he knew that he was one middle-aged man who was going to be stiff and sore at the end of the day. Old guys shouldn’t be doing this.

He should be used to it by now, though. They were starting their second week of the month long tour, and northeastern France had been beautiful. That continued to surprise him. Alex had seen this countryside utterly devastated by war, and part of him apparently had assumed that‘s the way it would still look despite the passage of years. Time is a healer. Even the most horrendous destruction eventually fades from the landscape and memories. Life goes on, and the Europe he was seeing now was ample proof of that platitude.

He was so happy that the land and people had recovered from the devastation of the Second World War. Maybe that was one of the purposes of this trip. To show vets that healing does take place. And it could for them, also, just in case there was some lingering guilt or issues that hadn‘t been resolved for them yet. 

And the other vets with Alex were happy to see the healing of the physical Europe, too. Shoot, Europe was the homeland to the forebearers of most of the guys on the bus. Even some of the black vets could probably claim a European ancestor or two. Even the heritage, culture, and ideologies of Europe and Britain had influenced America and had given it much of its political structures, religious beliefs, and national image.

A party mood hovered over the bus. These men had temporarily left their cares and aches and pains behind them at home. Once again they assumed a youthful spirit in mind, even if they couldn’t in body. There had been the usual horsing around, and Alex realized that he was enjoying himself. Gosh, he had shared part of his life with these guys. It saddened him to think of the guys who were absent, either through illness or disability or even death. 

Sad, also, were the guys who had never made it home the first time. Seeing their graves at the large American military cemeteries made Bryant feel wistful about them. They had been lost so young. But seeing them together, forever, gave a certain amount of comfort to him, too. They would never be alone now. Their buddies were with them.

After leaving the latest cemetery, the bus once again bounced along a rough road that passed by meadows and fields of the French countryside. The solemnness of the large American cemetery was quickly shaken after a visit to the café in a neighboring village. A glass of a sparkling wine or the robustness of an honest German beer would cheer anybody out of the doldrums.

The American men looked at middle-aged women in the street and wondered if they’d ever shared intimate moments with any of them a quarter of a century ago. Some of these matrons had to be the comforting peasant and village girls who’d gratefully offered themselves in gratitude to the American soldiers back then. Some of it had been done in the madcap merriment of youth. But some of it had been deadly serious, too. Many women and their families had owed their very existence to the generosity of American soldiers.

“Hey, Rogers, I saw a kid back in that last village that looked a hell of a lot like you!” someone hollered to an old buddy on the bus.

Across the aisle, Alex Bryant exchanged grins with Maninsky, the friend who had called him about the trip.

“Just one?” Rogers hollered back, and everybody laughed. “I figured I’d have a whole bunch of kids scattered across Europe. I know I tried my best to re-populate this part of the world. And it was all my pleasure.”

“Well, this one had to be a grandson. He was too young to be your own. Unless you’ve been in Europe in the last ten years.”

“Are you kidding? My wife keeps me on a pretty tight leash.”

“Remembering your breeding habits, she probably has a good reason!”

The bus rocked with laughter, and Alex grinned again. He’d forgotten how nice it felt to be so relaxed. But the bus was heading ever eastward, steadily bringing them closer to Nancy, Metz, and Heidelberg. They were places he both wanted and dreaded to visit again. Too many memories waited for him there. Too many issues left unsolved lurked if he dared approach them.

“Hey, Bryant,” yelled a man two rows behind him. “What was the name of that German officer you had to guard?”

Bryant glanced at Maninsky sitting beside him. He didn’t even have to search his memory. The name had been on his mind for days.

“Colonel Hans Deiter Hoffman,” Alex answered.

“Yeah, that was it,” Kelly said with a grin. “Hans Deiter Hoffman. What a stuffed shirt! I wonder what ol’ Henry’s doing now?!”

“His name wasn’t Henry,” Bryant muttered.

“What?! You‘ll have to speak up! I think my hearing‘s going. My wife complains that it‘s other things she misses. I tell her if she‘s that damn frisky still to go find her a teenage stud. That shuts her up damn fast!”

General laughter rang through the bus.

“His name wasn’t Henry,” Alex answered with a raised voice. “Hans is one of the German names for John, not Henry. That would be Heinrich.”

“That’s right. You’d know that, wouldn’t you, ‘cause you know German.”

“I learned it at Officers’ Training School. I thought that would be the best way to keep from getting shot.”

“Yeah, and we all know how well that turned out, don‘t we?”

Everyone laughed, and even Bryant had to grin. It was okay to be the butt of a joke when it was with guys who’d been his family in a scary situation.

“That’s how we, and you especially, got to baby sit him. Kept our hinnies out of harm’s way, though. Except for you, Lieutenant. How’s your arm?”

Bryant flexed his shoulder. “I know when a storm’s coming in. I don‘t need to check the weather report for that.”

“That’s something how you got shot. You took a bullet for that Nazi.”

“He was a German, Walker, not a Nazi.“

“He was an officer in the Third Reich.“

“He believed the party line when it all started, just like everyone else did. Then he saw all the suffering and killing that Hitler‘s agenda was causing, and he just wanted it to stop. And if stopping it meant collaborating with us, he was willing. But some Germans didn’t see it that way. His own men were gunning for him. They thought he was a traitor.”

“He was, Lieutenant. There ain’t nothing as yellow as a traitor.”

“He had his reasons. He didn’t believe in Hitler’s plan anymore. German civilians were suffering. Hoffman wanted to stop that. He was worried about his own family that he hadn’t seen in months and who needed him at home. They were in Berlin, and we all know how that city got treated. First, it was blown off the map by the Allies. Then, it got cut in two with the Russians taking East Berlin. His family was in the eastern part of Berlin, the last I heard. I don’t know if any of them survived. But they are why he was trying to help end the war. And if that took aiding the enemy, us, so be it.”

“But then he went on that hunger strike--”

“He learned that his daughter had died. Any bite of food he ate felt like a betrayal to her.”

“But you saved his life. How?”

“I told him he couldn’t add to the insanity. He was needed to help rebuild his country. And even though he was hurting, he could see I was right. He was more a humanitarian than a fatalist. I’ve never admired a person more than the day he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and asked what he could do to help.”

“And then you took a bullet for him.”

Bryant frowned. “And got sent to an army hospital and then home to the States. I guess that bullet was my ticket home. I was in the Army for awhile Stateside. When I got out, the world had changed. We were in postwar times and there was a different feel in the air. You guys had scattered and resumed your lives, so I did, too. I never knew what had happened to most of you, or to Hoffman. That part of my life was over.” Alex looked around. “There‘s not a single person here who didn‘t do the same thing. And without regrets. Lately, though, I’ve been wondering about Hoffman and how things turned out for him after the war.” He shrugged his shoulders. ”But, of course, I’ll never know. I have no idea where he is. I don‘t even know if he‘s still alive.”

Silence fell on the group, and then a soft cough from Delton Smith caused all eyes to focus on him.

“You aren’t going to believe this, Lieutenant, but I think I know where Colonel Hoffman might be.”

Bryant frowned as he felt a jolt go through his system. “What do you mean?”

“My kid brother Marcus came over here on a Fulbright Scholarship years ago, and one of his professors was a Hans Deiter Hoffman. I thought it was a heck of a coincidence at the time, but I‘ve always wondered.”

“Alex,” Manny said in excitement beside him. “Hoffman was a teacher.”

Bryant’s frown deepened. “I know,” he said to Maninsky. Then he looked at Smith. “Where did your brother study?”

“In Frankfurt am Main. At the Goethe Universtat.“

“What field of study?”

“Foreign languages,” Smith answered.

“Bingo,” Manny murmured beside him.

Bryant wanted to grin. He could hear George Davis saying that Hoffman knew two more languages than Bryant did, so that meant that Hoffman knew five.

“It was ten years ago, Lieutenant, and it probably wasn’t even the same guy.”

“You’re right. Still--”

“That’s a long time, Lieutenant.”

Bryant nodded, but in his mind he wondered.

As they continued eastward across France and then northward into Germany, the changing scenery caused the former soldiers to reminisce about their time there, but it also caused Alex to recall how he happened to be there in 1944.

Part III. DAYS OF GLORY

Introduction

To misquote an expression that a certain Frenchman had made famous, Bryant had the worst of two possible worlds. He wondered if Voltaire would’ve chuckled knowing that he was credited with the quote when it had actually been coined by a German philosopher in his own writing a generation before Voltaire’s book Candide had ever appeared in print. 

That was one time that the French had taken advantage of the Germans. Not now. Not in 1944. But the French were gradually shaking German control, thanks to the Allied forces, especially the United States.

The Fall of France had occurred in late Spring, 1940. Then, almost four years to the date, Europe had been invaded at Normandy by Canada, the United Kingdom, the Free French, and the United States. The great push backwards of the Nazi Army toward their homeland had started. Great bloody battles starting at the Normandy Coast swept eastward across the top of France, and Alex Bryant was caught up in the maelstrom.

He had never planned to be a part of it.

It was no fault of his when he found himself in central Europe in 1944 instead of America where he would‘ve been a whole lot safer. Despite some evasive scheming by him, World War II had finally caught up with Bryant and spit him out into the midst of the action. He’d gone to Officer’s Training School to avoid infantry. Except for earning him some college hours in languages, a fat lot of good that schooling had done. Now here he was in northeastern France, not only as a soldier, but as an officer expected to be leading men. Not only that, he had to give orders and make decisions to boot. 

He recognized the irony of his situation. He’d be damned if he had to appreciate it, too. 

He wouldn’t have given the Allies very good odds of winning the war if he had been in charge of them. The Brass must’ve been more impressed with his abilities than he was. All he knew was that Lady Lucky must’ve been having one hell of a good laugh at his expense.

It wasn’t that he was a coward or a quitter, he just didn’t give a damn about the war. He had his own life to live. He had a sneaking hunch, though, that almost everyone involved, except for maybe the highest echelon of leaders on both sides and the most dedicated Nazis with their crazy plans, felt the same way he did. 

But neither a philosophical outlook nor a belief in the occult represented by Lady Luck could help Bryant now. He’d gone through the bloody fighting on D-Day and was helping Patton’s Third Army shoot Germans. Although only a little over three months had passed since he‘d landed at Normandy, fighting had become a way of life for him. It bothered him that danger felt normal and was almost boring. When guys started feeling that way, they started losing their edge, and that’s when they got killed.

He’d managed to stay alive through hellish combat and had collected several medals for it. He was a reluctant hero who seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but somehow he survived and even flourished. He’d say, “I’m not brave,” and then turn around and prove otherwise. He figured that he was plagued by an overwhelming case of good luck and bad timing. He’d rub the buckeye seed in his shirt pocket for luck and hope for the best.

Lady Luck was sometimes a fickle mistress, though. Bryant swore that she got bored with her tactics and sent him bad luck and good timing, just to see if she could trip him up.

That’s when he could hear her laughing the longest and the loudest.


	10. Lame Goats And Nazi Officers

When he thought about it later, Alex realized that his blessing/curse was working overtime the day the German officer surrendered to him near Nancy, France. 

The whole area was a mass of confusion in September, 1944 with Allies advancing and Germans retreating. Lines blurred and overlapped, and at times it was difficult to ascertain whether it was friend or foe who suddenly popped into view. Many soldiers were killed by friendly fire, shot by their fellow soldiers, as they have always been in combat. 

All that Alex knew was that one day a man came into view who wasn’t supposed to be there. But who knew in this mess where anybody was supposed to be. He was more a mirage than reality, and the two men stared at each other through the torn up devastation that was no man’s land.

Bryant realized a split second before the German did that they were on opposing teams and brought his weapon up to fire. But the German dropped his gun like it was burning his flesh and raised his hands. He wore the uniform of a German Colonel and appeared to be only a few years older than Alex. It crossed Alex‘s mind that the man had done well to have risen so far in the ranks at his age. The German was pudgy with a certain softness to his face and wore a mustache. Small round glasses perched on his nose. He didn’t look like a rough farm boy who’d worked with his hands, but somebody who had grown up in gentler surroundings and traveled in intellectual circles as an adult.. He probably had a rich interior life and would be interesting to know. 

But Bryant didn’t want to think of the German as an individual. He marched him back to camp and left him with some fellow soldiers while he reported to his commander.

While he was discussing with Captain Davis what to do with the prisoner, he saw that the German was running, now handcuffed and blindfolded, through gunfire whizzing all around him. Bryant ran after the German into no man’s land and through gunfire. 

“Bryant! Get back here!” Captain Davis yelled. “He’s dead anyway!”

But Bryant keep running until he tackled the German into the mud. Then he marched him back to safety and a fuming Davis.

“You men guard the prisoner, and this time hang onto him!” Davis ordered as he returned the German to the soldiers who had lost him. “I want him looking as lily white as the day he was born!” 

“But, Captain, he’s all dirty. Bryant shoved him in the mud.”

“Christ, do I have to draw pictures?! Forget the mud! I don’t want any extra holes in him! Blood gushes out of holes! That tends to kill a man! Got that?!”

“Yes, sir,” one of the soldier answered in misery.

“Will they take good care of him?” Bryant asked as he looked up at his commander. Bryant was tall himself, but he wasn’t as tall or large framed as Davis. Bryant looked up to Davis in more than one way.

Davis glared at the sheepish-looking men with the prisoner. “Their asses will be in slings if they don’t!” He roughly pulled Bryant aside. “What in the hell did you just do out there?!” 

“I saved a man’s life,” Alex answered as he rubbed at the mud on his uniform.

“I want you standing at attention when you answer me, soldier!”

Bryant sighed. Great. Now Davis was going to start pulling rank. The prisoner and the other American soldiers were within earshot, though, and Alex should at least act like he’d once had undergone some military discipline. He drew his shoulders back and obeyed.

“Don’t you know you could’ve gotten killed out there?!” 

“Yes, sir. But the prisoner was my responsibility. He had surrendered to me and was entitled to his rights under the Geneva Convention.” 

“You don’t have to tell me what’s in the Geneva Convention!“

“Yes, sir. Not only his rights, but his life was in danger, sir.“ Bryant watched as the German and his escort disappeared into the brig.

“We’re not here for humanitarian reasons!”

“I also thought that since he was a German officer, we might be able to question him and learn some vital information.” 

“But isn’t that against his rights under the Geneva Convention?!” Davis mocked. 

“Well, yes, I guess so.”

“You know that you disobeyed my direct order, don’t you? And that I could have your ass busted from here to China?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And did you have any other reasons for disobeying a direct order?”

“He didn’t have a fighting chance, sir.”

“Didn’t have a fighting chance!“ Davis sputtered. “Are you deliberating trying to piss me off?!“ Davis shook his head. “I don’t know where you get this crap, Bryant. Last week, you had your men rescuing a lame goat because it was in the line of fire. A lame goat! It wasn‘t worth a damn! Even its owner said so!”

“It was going to get killed where it was.”

“And would’ve that been any great loss?!”

“It would’ve been to the goat, sir.” Before Davis exploded, Alex said, “It deserved a chance. Anything does.”

“I can almost understand your thinking. You’re an animal lover. That’s great. Won’t your mama be proud! But what you hauled in today isn’t a goat! This is a Nazi. He’s the enemy. Remember?! We‘re fighting them! They shoot at us, we shoot at them. That’s how it’s done! It‘s in the war rule book, for Christ‘s sake!”

Bryant bristled at Davis‘s sarcasm. “He’s a man! Can’t we be a little bit more sympathetic? He just had to do what to him must be a dishonorable thing. I know if I had to surrender, that’s how I’d feel. And I’d like to hope that the guy holding the gun in my face is halfway charitable. It’s no good to stomp someone when he’s down. That doesn’t do any good. He just will hate us more.”

“We‘re not supposed to give them time to hate us! We shoot them! That‘s why we‘re issued weapons!”

“I just know if I was in the same place he is, about all I’d have left is my pride and it’d be damn hard to hang onto that. We might think we want revenge for the guys we’ve lost, but it won’t satisfy us in the long run. The guy needs help with his crazy thinking.” 

“Hell, Bryant, you missed your calling. You should’ve been a priest.”

“I’m not that good. Besides, it’s the way I’d want to be treated.”

“That was a pretty good speech. Just what the Brass would want to hear and believe me, it‘s going in my report to them. You probably don‘t know it, but different ideas are being discussed about how we can rehabilitate the Axis powers when this war is over. I think you just might be somebody who can see the big picture of what the Brass wants done. Your prisoner’s whole country will need help eventually. You know what, Bryant? I think you,” he said as he jabbed his index finger into Bryant’s chest, “should be in charge of our prisoner. That way you can practice what you preach.”

Bryant forced himself to keep quiet. He knew he’d just dug a hole for himself. There was no sense beating himself over the head with the shovel, too. But, oh, how he deserved it.

“Go get yourself and your prisoner cleaned up, then get him settled. Since you’re so concerned about him, you will be responsible for his wellbeing, I will expect detailed reports about his background and whatever intelligence information you can get out of him, in spite of what rights he’s guaranteed by the Geneva Convention. I want to know everything. No detail will be too small.” His eyes narrowed. “When he takes a crap, I want you to be able to tell me what he ate for dinner the day before. And I don‘t mean by asking him!”

Bryant blinked.

Davis looked smug. “I’m told that the punishment should fit the crime, and I think, in this case, it has. An old shit kicker like yourself should be able to appreciate that. It‘s a pretty stinking situation all the way around.“ He leaned closer so only Alex could hear him clearly. “That’ll teach you to scare the hell out of me, soldier. I didn‘t want to have to bury you. It would’ve ruined my day.” He straightened. “And don’t forget that we’re set for poker at Maninsky’s quarters later on tonight. I’m expecting to whip your ass then, too.”

Bryant sighed as he watched Davis walk away with satisfaction on his face. Alex wanted to hit him, but he knew Davis was right. Despite his humanitarian actions, Alex had deserved to lose his stripes or worse. And he really had scared the hell out of Davis. Alex knew that if he’d been killed trying to rescue the German, George Davis would’ve never gotten over that sorrow.

Because he and Davis were buddies. They‘d seen too much war action together and had depended on each other too much not to be anything else. Bryant both loved him and hated him with an intensity that defied all reason. They were friends, but Davis could be a hard ass. He never let Bryant forget who was in charge. Bryant respected him, and Alex could not say that about too many men. Davis was that damned good.

Or that damned bad, depending on the occasion and Alex’s viewpoint.

Alex’s viewpoint about Fate was backwards, too. He actually had a case of bad luck and good timing. What else could explain capturing that German who was causing such havoc with Alex‘s life?

 

Davis relented, of course, about the stool inspection. Bryant was the butt of some good natured teasing at the poker game that night, then the incident blew over in the camaraderie of men who had served a long time together in tough conditions. 

Bryant did, however, have to fulfill the other parts of his orders. After setting the prisoner up with private quarters befitting a high ranking enemy officer, he saw little of Hoffman. For awhile. But the Brass hadn’t forgotten Bryant and his German captive.

“Okay, Bryant,” Davis was saying as he sat at his desk looking at Bryant’s files. Hoffman and Bryant sat in chairs facing him. “It says that you know French, German, and of course, English.” He looked up with humor in his eyes. “That means Colonel Hoffman here has you beaten. He knows Italian and Dutch, too.”

Bryant was clearly angry. “I’m a quick learner. Send me back to an American college stateside, and I’ll pick them up real fast.” He gave Hoffman a derisive glance. “Then I’ll be able to converse with Mr. Name, Rank, and Serial Number in five languages.”

“Oh, no, Lieutenant, you’re needed here,” Davis said, and Bryant could tell that Davis was enjoying himself. “I have another assignment for you.”

Here it comes, Bryant thought. The job worse than turd inspector.

Davis nodded in Hoffman’s direction. “And for Colonel Hoffman, also.”

“What?!” Bryant thundered. “I have to work with him?!”

“Come on, Alex,” Davis cajoled. “Stop being so hard on the Colonel. He’d rather work with us than go to a prison camp. Besides, he told you that he was a university language professor and was in German Intelligence.”

“It took him awhile to let me have that information,” Bryant grumbled.

“He couldn’t figure out your German. Why didn’t you talk to him in English?”

“He didn’t tell me he knew English until--” He was going to say, ‘I’d made a fool out of myself,’ but he wisely shut up. It was embarrassing enough to have conducted an interrogation that showed him up as an idiot, but to have then realized that the German understood Bryant’s dressing down by Davis was almost more than he could accept.

“The Brass wants you two on a public relations program,” Davis explained. “You two will go as a team to liberated French villages and towns and talk to people about establishing good will. What would be better publicity than an American and a German seen working together?”

“I‘d be safe, but won’t he be in danger?” Alex asked. “I’m pleased you have so much faith in me, but I’m only one guy. I couldn’t protect him. Won’t those same liberated villagers and townspeople want to tear a Nazi limb from limb if they get a chance?”

“You may pick a couple of soldiers to accompany you.”

“Let’s see, who do I hate enough to take on a suicide detail?” He held up his hand before Davis objected. “Okay, saying the liberated villagers and townspeople welcome us with open arms and all is rosy, what happens if the Germans come across us? They’ll consider me the enemy and Hoffman a traitor for cooperating with us. Then they’ll want to tear him limb from limb if they get a chance. Same results as the French, and I don’t know which side would enjoy it more. The Germans would make sure he took a long time dying, I‘m sure. Those Teutonic people can get cruel. I think it‘s all those northern winters they live through and listening to Wagner.” 

“Then I suggest that you shoot Hoffman first and yourself second.” Davis saw Bryant’s startled reaction. “Come on, Lieutenant, stop being such an old lady. The Germans are miles from here, and the French civilians would eat cow manure if we asked them. They love us Americans that much. We liberated them.”

“I’m just saying that with either the French or the Germans, Hoffman could wind up looking mighty odd with no arms or legs. He‘d even need someone to wipe his ass. And just between you and me, Captain, that‘s where I draw the line!”

Davis‘s eyes twinkled. “I’m glad to hear that you’re so concerned about your prisoner’s welfare. I‘m glad that you‘re willing to protect him.”

“It’s not that,” Bryant grumbled. “I’d be standing beside him, and someone might mistake one of my limbs for his. That’s when I‘ll step aside, and let them have him.”

“That wouldn’t happen, Lieutenant. I know you well enough to know that you’ll protect this man’s life with your very own. I know it, and I think Colonel Hoffman here knows it. You proved it to him by running out in gunfire and saving him. But I think he realized he could trust you before then. Why else did he surrender so readily to you? Why you, of all of the soldiers in this man‘s army?” 

“I’ve asked myself the same thing, sir,” Bryant muttered and turned from Davis’s grin. He glanced at Hoffman who tried to look noncommittal, but couldn‘t quite get his face cleared in time. Damn it! Was that bastard’s eyes twinkling?!

Bryant sighed to himself. He was the victim of a conspiracy here. Hoffman, Davis, and Lady Luck were all in it together.

“Look, Bryant, I know that a whole lot of this assignment doesn’t seem logical, but the Brass wants to see if it’ll work. We‘re not expecting you to bring us peace in our time, Lieutenant, just an inroad to it. With your line of bull, you‘re a natural.” Davis had to fight a grin. “And your fine command of languages, of course.” 

Hoffman shifted in his chair and refused to raise his eyes. But Bryant could see the corners of Hoffman’s mouth definitely twitching. 

Bryant was happy that at least two people in this room were enjoying themselves at his expense. Then he noticed a subtle change come over Davis. He’d gotten tenser. 

Davis looked Bryant straight in the eyes. “There’s more.”

Oh, boy, Bryant thought, here comes the big clincher and it’s bad. Davis isn’t enjoying himself anymore.

“The Brass wants you two to try it out on the French civilians first.” He paused. “Then, later on, you’ll get to see if it, ah, works with the German people.”

Bryant blinked. “The Germans?! Holy--” He heard just the slightest rustle beside him. He bet Hoffman didn’t have a twinkle in his eyes anymore.

“Yes, that’s just what it might take. I doubt if any amount of earthly excrement will help you gentlemen in Germany. You‘ll both be targets.” He looked levelly at them. “But, gentlemen, if this program flies, the ramifications could be far-reaching and heal this part of the world much quicker than we‘d hoped. If there’s the chance for that, don’t you think you should try your level best to achieve it?”

Bryant groaned to himself. Davis knew that Bryant would try extra hard if the idea was put to him that way. 

What did he have? A sign on his back? Sucker jobs wanted. No logic required. Just give me your sob story. All lame goats and Nazi officers to the head of the line. Yup, you’re cleared. I’m your guy. I’ll help you. No questions asked. 

Okay, so he was a sucker.

But he didn’t have to like it.

 

Outside Davis‘s office, Hoffman said, “Lieutenant, I want to apologize. I did not realize that you would look bad in front of your superior, but it really was not my fault.”

Bryant whirled. “What makes you think I want to talk to you?! We might have to work together, but that’s the only contact I want with you. Understand?”

“But, Lieutenant, what a wonderful opportunity for me to practice my English and for you to practice your German. Just think what we could learn about each other.”

Bryant tried to make his voice sound as snide as possible. “What makes you think I want to know anything more about you than your name, rank, and serial number?”

Hoffman blinked as if he’d been slapped. “I am so sorry if I offended--”

“Let’s just keep it impersonal, shall we, Colonel?” He stomped away.

He might’ve reconsidered if he’d seen the sad look on Hoffman’s face.

 

Later, Bryant could see the humor of the situation. Why was he being so hard on Hoffman? It hadn’t been his fault. Alex was just mad about being embarrassed. 

Alex might even get to liking the guy. Hoffman was amiable, even-tempered, and didn’t complain. Shoot, Alex might even like him already.

That brought Alex up short. They shouldn’t get too friendly. Hoffman was, after all, the enemy. Perhaps it really would be better to stay impersonal with him. It would avoid complications later on.


	11. A Couple of Old Tom Cats

Bryant set the perimeters their first day out. With his arms crossed, he leaned against the hood of the jeep and almost glared at the German officer standing in front of him. “Okay, you know this isn’t my idea. They can’t make you do this. You can go to a prison camp if you wish and face a trial after the war. Or you could help us and maybe get some leniency. I can’t promise anything. As for me, I can do this or go back into battle. I don’t know what the outcome will be if we do this, but I do know what will happen to us if we don’t. It could be dangerous, but I think we should give it a try. Private Collins and Sergeant Maninsky will be going with us. They don’t want to be dead heroes, either, but they’re good men in a pinch. I’d trust them with my life. You can, too.” When Hoffman said nothing, Bryant stirred. “Look, Hoffman, I don’t want to be babysitting you, and I think you know it. But it beats getting shot at or permanent K.P. You just do as I say and we’ll get along just fine. And no talking unless we’re with the civilians. Understood?“ He saw Hoffman nod his head. “Okay, guys,” he hollered at his escorts. “Let’s get out of here and go charm some locals.”

Maninsky and Collins crawled in the back of the jeep and Hoffman rode up front with Bryant who drove. Bryant put the vehicle in gear, and the four men headed out of camp.

 

Several days passed as the four appeared before startled French crowds. And it was always the same reaction: cheers for the Americans and silence when the Nazi stepped forward.

“Greetings to our French friends!” Bryant would announce in French. “We are here to offer you brotherhood.”

“Is that why you are here with the killer?” one Frenchman asked who had recovered quicker than his counterparts.

“We are here with Colonel Hoffman to show that for the good of the future, we must put the past behind us and work together.”

“Have you been kicked in the head by a horse?” the Frenchmen asked and was joined in laughter by his friends. The Frenchman spit on the ground. “That is what I think of your choice of companions. He is a butcherer!”

The crowd grumbled in agreement.

“What’s going on?” Collins muttered at Bryant’s side. “The natives sound restless.”

“They are,” Bryant muttered back. “We‘re at a stalemate. I think they’re trying to decide which one of us to string up first, their known enemy, or the American soldier who collaborates with the known enemy. The only thing that’s probably saving me is that they think I’m nuts. And I’m inclined to agree with them.”

Hoffman stepped in front of the Americans with his hand up. 

Bryant yelled at Hoffman, “Don’t!” He hoped that the villagers realized that the German was greeting them and not trying to give them the Nazi salute.

The crowd reacted with shocked mutterings as they pulled back.

But Hoffman continued to stand between the Americans and the French.

“I know that you have had hard times,” Hoffman said in French. “So have my people. There is a whole generation of us whose lives have been disrupted by this war. We will have a difficult time recovering from that. It may take many years. But, my fellow Europeans, Time is on our side. My uniform will someday come off, but I will always be a European. We have a common history. We can have a common goal of peace in Europe with hope for a brighter tomorrow. Let us work together for the good of all. We are all Christians, and we can learn to live in peace again with God‘s help.”

Hoffman stopped speaking and glanced back at Bryant. Hoffman looked self-assured, but Bryant noticed that his hands were shaking and perspiration dotted his forehead even though the day was cold.

The villagers stood like stone replicas of human beings. Shock had frozen their faces into masks of incredible numbness. A Nazi had spoken to them with a plea for brotherhood. One of the brutal killers who had dehumanized them and enslaved them for years was standing before them. And that Nazi was extending not only the olive branch of peace out to them, but proposing that they work together for a prosperous future. Was the German insane? How could they forget dead friends and family, lives ravaged forever, countryside and an economy devastated? How could they forgive and forget with just a shrug of the shoulders and an eye toward a united Europe?

It was more than the besieged, war-weary villagers could assimilate in a short period of time. But when they had, Bryant knew they would react to Hoffman’s speech and it wouldn’t be favorably.

“Let’s get out of here!“ Bryant kept himself between Hoffman and the crowd as the four hurried through the alley toward the jeep. “Get in!” He gave the German a shove toward the jeep.

But Hoffman refused to budge. “We should stay.”

Bryant pointed back toward the street where they‘d left the crowd. “You want another dose of that?! You were lucky they didn’t attack you.“

“Lieutenant, if they were going to stone me, they would have started by now.”

“Get in the jeep before I’m the one who stones you!”

“But they were listening!”

“They weren’t listening. They were too stunned to move! They weren’t expecting you to speak. They’ll recover any minute now, and we shouldn‘t be around when they do.”

“But--”

“Will you just--”

“Ah, fellahs, you want to discuss this later?” Maninsky asked. He nodded toward the alley. “I think they’ve recovered.”

Several villagers emerged from the alley and headed in their direction.

Hoffman stepped forward. “Comrades--” 

“Oh, no, you don’t!“ Bryant shoved him into the jeep. “Get in, guys!” he ordered, then bailed inside himself and started the vehicle. 

They careened out of the town and headed into the countryside.

“What in the hell were you doing?!” Bryant demanded as clutched the steering wheel. He was almost too angry to drive.

“What I was sent to do,” Hoffman answered stubbornly.

Bryant shot an annoyed look at Hoffman. “I wanted you to wait!” 

Hoffman gave him an exasperated look. “For what? It’s been a week. The war will be over before I get a chance to talk.“

“We should be so lucky,“ Bryant muttered.

“You said I couldn‘t talk unless it was to the civilians. Well, I was talking to the civilians.” 

“I hadn‘t given you the go-ahead.”

“When was that going to be?”

“Look out!” Collins shouted and pointed between the two in front.

Bryant jerked his head around. The road ahead of them was filled with sheep.

Bryant stomped the brakes, fought the wheel, and managed to get stopped without hitting any of the sheep or flying off the road. They sat still for a few moments while the shepherd and his dog got the road cleared. But mainly they sat to allow the four in the jeep to get their hearts to stop racing. Then the jeep started down the road at a much slower speed. 

Bryant willed himself to hold his temper. Now if they could get back to camp without further incident, Bryant would only have to worry about what he’d report to Davis. He didn’t know what Davis would think of the day’s events. No scenario Bryant could imagine seemed to turn out in his favor.

“The villagers had to hear something,” Hoffman finally said. “Let’s give them time to think about what we said.“

“Sounds great to me,” Bryant muttered. He just wanted this crazy afternoon behind him. A nice cold beer in his hand, soft music playing somewhere, a grateful woman sitting beside him instead of this crazy Kraut--

“And then we can go back to the village to try talking to them again.”

Pop! Bryant’s daydream disappeared. “What?!” he demanded, annoyed.

Hoffman looked at him. “I think they will be more receptive next time.”

Annoyed, Bryant stared at him. “You have to be nuts!” He stared a little longer. “What makes you think the next time will be okay?”

“Because they didn’t stone us today.”

“That’s because they didn’t know ahead of time about our visit! The next time they might have a pile of stones ready. Hell, maybe even a few small boulders. And we won’t have the element of surprise in our favor. Just between you and me, Colonel, I don’t want to get this jeep all busted up. Or my head. Or anybody else’s head in this jeep, either, including yours. Especially yours. My captain wouldn‘t like it.” Bryant knew he was sounding snide, but he was pretty well pissed off. “You see, I’m kind of responsible for all of the equipment and people in here. We don‘t want to get ourselves killed.”

“It’s what we’re supposed to do, Lieutenant.”

“What?! Get ourselves killed?!”

“Of course not.”

“Look, I know you’ve got a lot more at stake here than the rest of us. You have the threats of a prison camp now and a trial after the war looming at you. We don’t. All we want is our tickets home.”

“So do I, Lieutenant.”

Bryant glanced at him. “What about your plans to conquer the world?”

“Some dreams have to be forgotten. We were trying to better the world.”

“By eliminating whole groups of people?!”

“I never did quite believe in that idea. I had some very good Jewish friends in the academic field. Utopian societies tend to look better on paper than in practical use.”

“Are you comparing Hitler’s plans with Utopian societies?”

“Yes, because it was one. Some of his methods to bring about success might have been a little extreme--”

“A little extreme?! Do you mean to say that you consider ethnic cleansing to be ‘a little extreme?’” He shook his head. “Boy, if you’re one of the more open-minded Germans, it’s going to take a lot to reeducate your people.”

“How is that working in the United States?”

“What do you mean?”

“What about the treatment of your blacks? It’s been nearly eighty years since your civil war ended, and those people are still faced with prejudice. And how about the treatment of the American Indians? Their lands were stolen outright from them. And your prejudices against other minorities is atrocious.”

“We’re not talking about American social problems here!”

“Well, it seems that we should! How can you have the arrogance to correct another nation when you have terrible social injustices in your own country?!”

“Now, just a minute--”

“Guys,” Collins interrupted. “Do you mind canning it? First, you’re talking in English, then in German. And then a mixture. We can’t keep up. And when we can understand you, we realize that we don’t want to. You’re giving Manny and me headaches. Can’t you just comment on the scenery? That would be so soothing.”

“I’ll do better than that!” Bryant declared. “We’ll all shut up!”

“But that goes against what you’re supposed to be doing,” Collins objected.

Bryant looked in the rearview mirror. “Collie, you’re coming dangerously close to pushing this jeep back to camp with your nose. And with us still in it. Do you like those prospects?”

“No, sir,” Collins answered in misery.

Bryant stared straight down the road. “Seems like I told Colonel Hoffman that he was not to do any talking, except to civilians.”

Hoffman looked at him. “And today you told me not to talk to the civilians.”

Bryant gave Hoffman a haughty look. “So what does that tell you, Colonel?”

With disgust on his face, Hoffman turned away.

“Well?”

Hoffman didn’t stir.

“What does that tell you, Colonel!?”

Hoffman turned back to face Bryant, and his blue eyes were blazing. “That you do not know what you want! First, you tell me to shut up, and then you want me to answer you. Come on, Lieutenant, make up your mind. I cannot do both.”

“I’m surprised you can’t. After all, you walk on water in your spare time, don’t you?”

“Lieutenant,” Hoffman said in a low, barely contained voice, “stop asking me questions if you do not want to hear answers that you will dislike.”

Bryant threw on the brakes and sent everyone flying forward. The men in the back seat awkwardly straightened themselves and muttered in annoyance.

“All right! Out!”

Hoffman looked around, puzzled. “You’re letting me escape?”

“Hell, no! I’m going to beat the hell out of you!”

“I’m no pugilist, Lieutenant.”

“You’ll learn,” Bryant assured him with savage glee.

“Alex, you can’t do this.”

“Stay out of it, Manny.”

“It’s not his fault. You’ve been baiting him since this whole thing began.”

“Do you want a piece of me, too, Manny?”

“I just want you to start this jeep and head us back to camp. I’ve had just about enough for one day. First the encounter with the angry villagers, then those feathered-headed sheep all over the road, and now you two hissing and spitting at each other like a couple of old tom cats. It’s more than I can handle. Give me a nice quiet battle any day.”

“That can be arranged,” Bryant growled. “I’m sure somebody’s trying to kill somebody somewhere. We‘ll ship you right to that place.”

“Just take us home, huh? Please?”

Bryant started the engine, but let the engine idle. Then he stared at Hoffman. “Just keep your mouth shut. I said no talking unless I said so.”

Hoffman glared at Bryant, then crossed his arms and looked away.

In the back seat, Collins and Maninsky groaned, but not too loudly.

“Just like the Bickersons,” Collins said under his breath so only Maninsky could hear him. The radio comedy about the battling married couple was one of America’s favorite shows.

“Yeah, but a whole lot stupider,” Maninsky answered.

Collins looked at him and nodded.

 

“I thought Hoffman was going to take Alex up on that fighting invitation there at last,” Collins said to Maninsky later.

“Hoffman doesn’t seem to know what to make of Bryant. And, frankly, neither do I. Bryant’s acting like a screwball. He‘s surely got his reasons.”

“I think he’s being pulled all different kinds of directions and doesn’t know what to do about it. He wants this plan to work because he believes in it. He’s trying to keep Hoffman alive because he knows we need him. And he’s trying to keep us alive because we‘ve got his back.”

“What about himself? What does he want for himself? Besides survival?”

“I don’t know if he’s gotten that far yet.”


	12. Two Teutonic Stoics

Gradually, to everyone’s amazement and answered prayers, the plan started working as their trips continued and people got used to seeing the odd team together. 

But the atmosphere inside the jeep didn’t improve. In fact, it worsened. Maninsky and Collins chattered among themselves, but the two men in the front seat sat stiff and mute and acted as though they were each alone in the vehicle. Bryant wouldn’t back down or give in. It would have irritated him if he’d learned that Hoffman was blocking his present surroundings out with thoughts of home. For Hoffman obeyed Bryant‘s orders. He didn’t speak unless he was spoken to. The trips to the civilian meetings became a test of his endurance. He wished it could have been otherwise. 

Hoffman would have welcomed, even enjoyed, a little human contact and interrelationship. Although quiet and even reticent, he was not a recluse. He had been drawn to Bryant from the first and had felt an immediate ease with him that Hoffman found intriguing. He wanted to know Bryant better, but Bryant acted distant. Well, if that was the way Bryant wanted to behave, so could Hoffman. He could be aloof, also. He was still a proud person.

Hoffman took a deep breath and made a vow. If Bryant set the rules, he could most certainly play by them. This would be the battle of the Teutonic stoics.

And that gradually wore Bryant down and got on his nerves.

 

“Did you see that French gal giving me the eye?” Maninsky asked as he rode in the jeep behind Bryant.

“Nah, I was too busy with two little misses of my own,” Collins answered. They were returning from another session of talking to villagers, and Collins and Maninsky were reliving a good afternoon. “I think I got something going with the blonde.”

“Prove it. You’re all talk and no action.”

“Why do you mean, no action? Come with me back into town tonight and watch a master at work.”

“Who wants to watch? I saw the promise of enough action that I shouldn’t have to just watch.“ Maninsky grinned. “Boy, isn’t this great? Getting to meet all those pretty gals? It’s like being in a candy store. Hey, Colonel,“ he asked as he leaned forward, “don‘t you like the French women, too?”

“Will you two guys just can it?” Bryant demanded. “No talking to our prisoner.”

“Come on, Alex. This ride is pretty boring. You can’t expect us to be quiet.”

“I can and I do, Collie.”

“Look, just because you two have a pact of silence between yourselves is no reason why Manny and I can’t--”

“Yes, it is! And that‘s an order, soldier!”

Collins and Maninsky glanced at each other. “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

No one said a word for the rest of the trip.

 

Collins and Maninsky stopped Alex after he parked the jeep back at camp. 

“Alex, we’ve talked it over,” Collins said. “We like you, buddy, but we can’t take it any longer. We want different assignments.”

“So do I, but it’s not going to happen.”

“If this is the way you treat your friends, we’d hate to be your enemies.”

“Don’t bail on me, guys. You’ve got my back. I trust you.”

“Then stop being a hard ass about talking,” Maninsky said. “It’s not human. Why don’t you want us to talk to Hoffman? He‘s not such a bad guy.”

“For just that reason. I thought it’d be better if we didn’t get on a personal basis with him. The more we talk to him, the more we’ll learn about him and the more he’ll get to be a human being to us.”

“Isn’t that the idea?” Collins asked

“Hmm?”

“Isn’t that the reason why we’re driving all over creation?” Collins continued. “So everyone can get to know each other better, and so we can build a better future together? So the Nazis can see that our way of life is better than theirs?”

Bryant thought it over. “It does sound stupid when you hear it back, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s a good idea, Alex,” Maninsky said. “And it’s working. Just don’t be so hard on Hoffman. He’s just one person, not the whole damned German army. Can you imagine how lonesome the guy must be? We’re the closest ones to him, and we don’t even act like he‘s there. We must be making a prison camp look pretty good to him about now. At least there’d be guys there who’d talk to him.”

“Are you sure it’s bothering him? Haven’t you ever heard of German bullheadedness? They’re famous for it. If he decided, he could go from now until the end of the century without talking. I know how they operate. I had a German grandmother straight out of the Old Country, and her stubbornness was legendary.”

“Okay, that accounts for him, but it doesn’t say much for us, does it? I can’t believe that the Brass wants us treating him like he’s some sort of a social pariah.”

“Don’t you understand why I-- Look, some day he’ll go his way, and we’ll go ours. It’d be better on everybody if we don’t get too friendly with him. We need to stay neutral and professional.”

“All we’re saying is just treat him better, okay?” Collins asked. “That’d make it easier on him, and on us, too.”

“Don’t you think this isn’t bothering me, too? I don’t like being a hard ass anymore than you do.”

“You two need to come to a better understanding than the one you have now. You need to talk things out. That jeep‘s getting smaller every day.”

“I’ll think about it!” Bryant stomped away.

“See?” Maninsky said. “I told you he had a bug up his ass about the way he’s been treating Hoffman. It‘s driving him nuts, too, no matter if he does have a logical reason.”

 

After Bryant knocked, Hoffman opened the door to his quarters. He looked surprised, but indicated a chair for Bryant to sit down. The men sat facing each other while Hoffman waited expectantly. 

“Captain Davis thinks that the meetings are going well,” Alex began.

Hoffman nodded.

“He wondered if you could think of anything to improve them?”

Hoffman thought a moment, then shrugged.

“Why don’t you talk?” Bryant blurted. “I know you can.”

“You told me to shut up, and I did.”

Bryant took a deep breath. “Do you know how much you jeopardized the program that day by talking before the time was right?“ It was as if the days between that incident and the present day had not occurred. He’d picked up the thread of the argument again as if he’d only paused for a moment.

So did Hoffman. “You had been trying for nearly a week without success. When was the time going to be right, Lieutenant?”

Bryant bristled. “You’re a good little Kraut, aren’t you? You know all the right answers.”

“I do not. And I do not appreciate the derogatory name that you call me. It is beneath you. You are a better person than that.“

Bryant held up his hand. “Okay, I’m sorry. I apologize. Frustrated people do that when it’s their last defense. I do it without thinking.”

“You do it to make me different from you. But the only difference between us is the uniforms we wear. You wish it otherwise, but we are the same, Lieutenant. We‘re both caught up in this war through no choice of our own.”

Bryant realized that Hoffman was setting up some perimeters of his own. Somehow, that only seemed fair.

“This war is not who we are,” Hoffman said. “I am only a poor schoolteacher with a family back home that I miss, and I know you have a similar story. Neither one of us wishes to be here doing what we are doing, but we need to make the best of our situation. We need to get along. For the sake of everyone around us, we need to get along.” Hoffman paused when he saw Bryant purse his lips. “I do not wish to anger you. You saved my life, and for that I will always be grateful. I know that my wellbeing depends on you.”

“You have no grand Nazi agenda?”

“I am tired of this war. All I want is to live to the end of it and go home to my family, that is all.”

“Aren’t you feeling a little bit disloyal, like you’re betraying your country?”

“Not my country. Never my country. The Third Reich maybe, but never Germany. I just want her back, whole and beautiful again.”

“You might not believe this, but that’s what we want, too. Look, ah, you can talk from now on. Just don’t be verbose. Okay?”

Hoffman smiled. “My, such a big word. Okay, as you wish. I will talk.”

Bryant gritted his teeth and hoped he hadn’t lured the dragon out of its lair.

Hoffman sobered. “But I will not know what to talk about, Lieutenant. I think I accidentally said the right thing to the villagers that day. I will need your help with them in the future. I frightened myself that day. After I started talking, it dawned on me that they could overwhelm you and your men, and my life would be over.“

“I saw your hand shaking, but nobody else did. You had a good bluff, Colonel. I‘m the only one who knew.“

“And I may talk to Collins and Maninsky, also?” Hoffman asked wistfully.

“Sure.” 

Bryant almost had to laugh at the sudden animation on Hoffman’s face. It was as if Bryant had given a new toy to a child.

“I, I do not know what to talk to them about,” Hoffman said as he thought of possible topics. He looked to Bryant for help. “What interests them, besides women?”

Bryant grinned slightly. “That about covers it.”

 

The atmosphere in the jeep relaxed and improved in the days ahead. Hoffman still sat ramrod straight in the front seat as though he were on exhibit. And indeed he was. Everybody in the jeep hoped he wasn’t also a target.

And although he did not instigate conversations, he did not discourage them, either. Maninsky and Collins particularly liked his gratitude and shyness about being included. And when he got a twinkle in his eye, everyone knew he was enjoying himself, even if he didn’t laugh out loud.

 

Collins walked by Bryant one day and slapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, Lieutenant.”

“For what?”

“We don’t know what you’re doing right with Hoffman, but keep it up,” Maninsky answered.

“I’m glad you two approve.”

“Come on, your life’s easier, too, isn’t it?” Collie asked.

“A little.”

“You know that German grandmother you’re always telling us about?” Manny asked in exasperation. “Well, you’ve got a lot of her in you.”

Bryant smirked as they walked away. He was glad they couldn’t see the humor in his eyes. Hoffman’s twinkle was catching.

 

The next day Hoffman was unusually quiet. Bryant thought he was in a reflective mood, so he left Hoffman alone. By the third day of the silent treatment, everyone in the jeep was tense.

“Okay, Alex, maybe we patted you on the back too soon. What did you do to Hoffman now?” Maninsky demanded after they got back to camp that evening.

“Yeah. Did you order him to clam up again?” Collins wanted to know.

“I didn’t do anything! I’m as puzzled as you are.”

“Come on. Something’s got him pissed, and we think it’s you,” Maninsky said.

“Why me?!”

“Because you did it before,” Maninsky answered.

“Maybe he’s bored with all your talk about women,” Bryant joked.

“Hey, maybe that’s the trouble!“ Collins declared. “We talk about our exploits, but we’re not sharing. He needs a woman!”

“I don’t think so,” Bryant answered. “He’s very married. Very loyal.”

“Come on. Nobody’s that married.”

“He is. And stop with the gleam in your eyes. No French woman would let him touch her. He‘s German. A woman would notice something like that. They‘ve been liberated, you know. By us.”

“Come on. Stop being so negative. We could put him in an American uniform!” Maninsky declared. “And tell him to speak English!”

“Or French!” Collins finished. “We can do this, Alex!”

“What? Provide him with a way to escape? Picture it, guys. He’d be in an American uniform and out on his own. Unless we went along to make sure he did things right with the young lady, he would have a perfect chance to slip away. If you were a prisoner, what would you do?”

“I’d escape,” Maninsky answered, then grinned. “After I’d visited awhile with the sweet mademoiselle!” He and Collins laughed.

“See what I mean?” Bryant asked. “We’d never see him again. I’m sure that Davis would notice his absence. I wouldn’t want to be around when he did.”

“You have no romance in your heart, Alex.”

“That’s right, Collie. You have to look a little further south for it.” When he got Collins and Maninsky to stop laughing, he frowned and said, “I know what the trouble could be. He might’ve thought of the same thing I did. During that talk you suggested I have with him, we got pretty relaxed. We even enjoyed being with each other, and maybe he’s had second thoughts about that. Maybe he doesn’t want to get too chummy, either, and for the same reasons. Maybe we should back off . Let’s see how he likes that.”

Collins rolled his eyes. “Here we go again!”

 

They started the new regime the next day, and Hoffman automatically adjusted to it. In fact, he visibly seemed to relax. So, here they were, impersonal, but comfortable. They had finally reached a compromise that worked.

If it took four guys weeks to hammer out a routine that was agreeable and peaceful to everyone, no wonder it took nations a long time to succeed with peace negotiations.


	13. The Grateful Young Ladies of France

Bryant set his beer stein down on the restaurant table, and he did nothing to hide the fact that he was discontented. “Captain, Patton’s been blazing a trail across northern France. and we’ve got the Germans on the run. Why’d we stop? We took Nancy in September. We should cross the Moselle and take Metz. Then it’s a straight run on to Berlin. Why are we marking time here? My butt‘s starting to think that it‘s taking root.”

Davis nodded. “Don’t forget that we’ve got to go through what’s left of the German army. Don’t underestimate them, Alex. They’re damned good soldiers. I have a world of respect for them. They just happen to have a cockamamie leader with some screwball ideas.“ Davis grinned. “Besides, aren’t you in the mood for a rest? Haven’t you got acquainted with the grateful young ladies of France yet? Nancy and the villages around here are full of them. I‘m sure there‘s several little ladies around here who would love to thank you personally.”

Bryant grinned back. “I’ve made their acquaintance, and, yes, they’ve sure been anxious to show their appreciation for being liberated. In fact, there‘s one young lady named Michelle--’ He looked up at George. “No, you don‘t need to know about her. She‘s special.”

“Come on, Alex. You know I won’t go check out the ladies myself. I couldn’t face my wife when I finally get home if I did.” He sat forward. “But I’m no saint. I don’t mind hearing about other guys’ conquests. Tell me more about this Michelle.” 

“Let’s just say she’s really special. I think the angels created her just for me.”

Davis leaned back and frowned. “That’s nice, but watch out for wartime romances. If you try to take her back to the States, it might not work out.”

Bryant looked startled. “I’m know I’m a rat, but I hadn’t planned on doing that.”

“My dad almost made that mistake in World War I, and his brother did. My aunt Hilda never did quite fit into the family, even though we had Germans on our family tree. People knew that two of her brothers had fought against the Dough Boys in France. That was hard to forgot. We tried to overlook her accent, but it was her attitudes that really bothered us. She never considered herself an American, although she lived over here for a number of years. Her differences finally strained her marriage too much, and she returned to Germany. It crushed my uncle, and he never did remarry. They’d really been in love at one time, but love doesn’t always conquer all. I saw what my uncle went through. I’d hate for anyone else to have his experience.”

“Thanks for the warning. I wasn’t planning on getting in that deep. Most guys don‘t, although they think they’re pretty involved at the time. Besides, when our outfit finally moves into Germany, I’d like to see just how hostile those little German frauleins really are to the enemy. I bet they‘d make a guy work for it.”

“Watch yourself with them. Those gals probably carry lugers in places you’ve never even heard about.”

Alex grinned. “It might be fun to help them hunt.”

Davis frowned. “I don’t want you coming out of this war talking in a higher voice than what you had before or having to squat like a woman to pee.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to cramp my style. Or to jeopardize it, either.”

“Just better stick with the French gals. This is GI heaven. We‘re out of the main action of the war, but still here. Better take advantage of it.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I get restless just sitting around here. Now, mind you, I’m not all that anxious to trade a French gal’s company in bed for that of a Nazi soldier’s in combat, but we had a hell of a momentum going through France. Look where we’ve gotten since we landed in Normandy in June. We could get this thing wrapped up by the end of the year at the rate we’ve been going. Why stop now? It seems crazy. It‘s just giving the Germans a chance to reestablish the Siegfried Line. I‘m sure they appreciate the breather we‘re giving them.”

Davis sipped his beer. “I couldn’t agree more, but these orders came down from Eisenhower himself. He’s letting that limey Montgomery try an airborne operation in the Netherlands.”

“So, how does that affect us?”

“One of the reasons Patton could move so swiftly across France was a steady stream of ammunition, gasoline, food, clothing, and weapons provided by thousands of trucks driven by soldiers calling themselves the Red Ball Express. Now a lot of our supplies have been diverted to Montgomery’s operation. So, we wait and hold our sector until provisions start heading our way again.” He gave Bryant a wary look. “But, even when the go-ahead is given to our troops to cross the Moselle and advance on to Metz, don’t expect everyone to be leaving here.”

Bryant studied him just as warily. “By everyone, are you meaning me?”

“You, me, a bunch of us. Someone has to stay behind and keep this area secure.” 

Bryant pretended to wrinkle his brow in thought. “Let’s see, let me make sure that I understand you right. I either stay here where it’s relatively safe and the women are grateful, or go into battle facing desperate guys who want to kill me because they’re being pushed back and don‘t have much to lose. Hmm. That’s quite a choice. Both options are so appealing.”

“Let me sweeten that battle choice for you.”

“I was afraid there was a catch. Hoffman?”

Davis nodded. “The Brass seems to think this good faith thing we got started is garnering good publicity. The natives like us.”

“The natives have always liked the American soldier. We guys are a soft touch, especially when it comes to kids. But, come on, Captain, it’s someone else’s turn to baby-sit Hoffman. I‘ll type letters for you, polish your boots, anything.” He frowned. “Well, almost anything.”

“Is he all that hard to work with?“

Alex shrugged. “He‘s not giving me much trouble right now, but he can be something of a stuffed shirt. If he wants, he can even be a downright prig. And when he decides to be stubborn, he can really set his heels in and won‘t budge.“

“I sympathize, but here’s the facts of life about you and the program that you‘re doing with Hoffman. And remember, you are more responsible for them being the way they are than I am. The Brass wants the public relations program to continue, especially as we advance further into Germany. Hoffman insists on working with you. And since he’s the one talking to the civilians, we want him happy. Look, you don’t have to be his buddy, Alex. Just try to get along with him, okay?”

Bryant shrugged. “Oh, well, it beats getting shot at.” He frowned. “I guess.”

 

During October, Patton’s soldiers waited in Nancy while Montgomery’s offensive failed. This caused tremendous destruction in the Netherlands and was a setback to the war effort. But other advances could move forward. In early November, Patton’s Third Army crossed the Moselle and took Metz. 

But Captain Davis and his men stayed behind in Nancy.

Then even their orders changed, they crossed into Germany, and their real work started. Before, Hoffman had been talking to Frenchmen who welcomed liberation. Now he would be addressing his own countrymen.

The German audiences were less enthusiastic; their country was losing a war. But the civilians were tired of warfare and just wanted normalcy to return. That would be a long ways down the road, though. They would have to be reeducated, and one of their first teachers would be Hans Deiter Hoffman.

 

Bryant caught up with the men in the compound. “Captain, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Davis stopped. “See that dispatch gets out immediately, Morris.“

Morris saluted. “Yes, sir.“

Davis turned back to Bryant. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“Well, Christmas is coming and I wonder if we could do something for the children in the area. They’ve gone through a lot of misery the last few years, and it’d be great to let them have a good time again, if only for a little while. It’d make their folks feel better, too, to see their kids happy.”

Davis grinned at him. “Why, Lieutenant Bryant, you had me fooled. Despite your bluster, you’re just an old softy at heart, aren’t you?”

Alex drew his breath in to protest, but he realized Davis was teasing him. “It goes along with our rehabilitation program.”

“That it does, Alex,” Davis agreed, still grinning. He slapped Bryant on the shoulder. “This time of the year brings the Santa Claus out in all of us, doesn’t it? I think it’s a great idea. Let’s see what we can get together. You know, the kids and the locals aren’t the only ones who‘ll benefit from a party. We all need a holiday.”

 

American soldiers are nothing but ingenious when it comes to making something out of nothing. They dug into their packs and found articles that could be made into gifts. They found food where there was none and decorated a town hall so that it looked like a magical Christmas setting.

Finding the ingredients for the simplest of refreshments proved to be quite a challenge since shortages were everywhere. They decided on eggnog and spice cookies after a collection of hoarded items from hidden larders produced nutmeg and ginger. Eggs and cream and flour and sugar finally made appearances and were secreted away as if they were the rarest jewels.

Decorations were a little easier to come by. Old dresses were torn up into strips that could be draped across the ceiling. Tinsel and Christmas ornaments were retrieved from the back of clothes closets to help decorate a huge tree in the corner of the large main room of the Town Hall. The Christmas tree was, of course, one of the contributions that the German people had made to the world’s tradition of Christmas. It would have been remiss not to have included one in this year’s festivities.

 

No one mentioned to Hoffman what was going on. This was an American project with the townspeople. He wondered occasionally what the unusual activity was about, but he thought it was just bored soldiers entertaining themselves. Hoffman himself was hoping that a letter from someone in his family would find him. It had been months since he had heard from his wife. He hoped his family was safe and that he would be with them all again by next Christmas. In the meantime, he was going to feel very alone during this holiday.

 

Christmas Eve found the men climbing into their jeeps and heading for the town hall to host their party for the local people. 

Alex picked Hoffman up that evening at his quarters.

“Where are we going?” Hoffman asked as they bounced along the frozen road. He had assumed there was an evening meeting with civilians, but the mass exodus of Army jeeps told him that the soldiers all had somewhere to go.

“The guys are going into town.”

“Why am I going?”

“There was no one left to guard you.”

That made sense. And since Bryant didn‘t elaborate, Hoffman decided not to ask any further questions. The next miles passed in silence.

In town, Alex parked beside other jeeps and got out. “Well, are you coming?”

Hoffman looked around. He had seen vehicles in the streets and had wondered what was going on. “Where?”

Bryant pointed at the Town Hall. “Inside.” He grinned. “There’s a party.”

A group of American soldiers walked by on their way to the celebration.

“Evening, Lieutenant,” one called to Bryant as he crunched along the snowy sidewalk. “Looks like more snow’s coming.”

“Yes, it does, Wilcox,” Bryant answered. “Just in time for Christmas.”

“Yes, sir,” Wilcox answered cheerily.

“Merry Christmas, Lieutenant Bryant,” another soldier hollered.

“Merry Christmas, Brown,” Bryant replied and waved. “Have a good time.”

“Thank you, sir. I will.”

Alex looked back at Hoffman. “Let‘s go, Colonel. You’re going to get awfully cold out here if you don’t come inside. And I‘m not staying out here with you so you don‘t escape.”

Hoffman shrugged, got out of the jeep, and followed Bryant up the steps to the Town Hall. He was trying to figure out how he could socialize with his captors.


	14. I Like Your Elf

When he walked in the door of the Town Hall, Hoffman stopped. Polka music and an overheated room packed with people overwhelmed his senses. Villagers were everywhere and mixing with the soldiers. Excited children ran and played together while the grownups smiled at the children’s gaiety. They were remembering their own childhood Christmases when they were young and the world lay before them.

“What is this?” Hoffman asked in amazement.

“A Christmas party,” Bryant answered with a smile of satisfaction as he looked around the room. “It’s been a lot of work, but it was worth it.” 

“But there are Germans here.” 

Bryant looked back at Hoffman. “I know that. We planned it that way.”

“But you said nothing.”

“I didn’t know if we could pull it off.” He grinned at the amazed look on Hoffman‘s face. “Come on, Hans Deiter. It’s Christmas. Relax. Enjoy the party.”

“I, I am sure I will,” Hoffman answered, flabbergasted. “You did this for my people?”

“And for the American soldiers, too.”

“But, but for the German civilians?”

“Sure. Why not? We wanted to give these folks a little happiness.”

“You have done something very good, Lieutenant Bryant. I am speechless.”

Bryant grinned again. “We can’t have that. The Brass wouldn’t like it.”

“But to do this for Germans, for your enemies. It is the true meaning of Christmas.”

“We did it for people. The party just seemed like the right thing to do, you know? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go play Santa Claus. I got elected because I’m the only one, besides yourself, who speaks both German and English.“ 

He looked at Hoffman with sudden interest. “Hey, that’s right! You speak both languages, too, don‘t you?” He threw his arm around Hoffman’s shoulders, which surprised Hoffman, and patted Hoffman‘s chest with his free hand. “Hans Deiter, how would you like to be in show biz?“ he asked in his most cajoling voice. 

“I do not understand this ‘show biz,’” Hoffman answered warily. He was highly suspicious since Bryant had never before been this friendly. The American hadn’t even had anything drink, or Hoffman could’ve smelled it on him. The American was standing that close to him.

“You’ll love it! You’ll get to put on a red suit and hand out presents. You’ll have a great time! All the kids here will be your buddies forever.” He patted Hoffman’s midsection. “And we won’t even need any extra padding!”

Now Hoffman understood. He pulled away and looked indignant. “You want me to play Saint Nicholas in your place, don’t you?” 

“Come on, Hans Deiter. You’ll be a natural.”

Hoffman also realized that Bryant was being playful. He got a twinkle in his own eyes. “I would not think of depriving you of your big opportunity to be in, as you say, show biz. The field is yours, Lieutenant.”

“Okay. But don’t say that I didn’t give you the chance. Hey, you could help me, though.”

“Help you?”

“Yeah. You could be my elf.”

“Alas, all is lost,“ Hoffman said with pretended sadness. “I did not bring my elf hat and elf slippers with me.”

“You won’t need them. Come on, Colonel,” Bryant said in suddenly serious tones. “We’ll get something worked out. It’ll be like another appearance of our team. I’m kind of used having you with me now. We’ll just be handing out presents tonight, instead of words. But I‘d like it if you were there helping me. How about it?”

Hoffman knew Bryant was no longer joking. And he thought that Bryant had surprised even himself with his words.

“All right,” Hoffman agreed quietly. “I would be happy to help you.”

“Great!” Bryant said, slapping him on the shoulder. “But first you can have something to eat while I’m getting ready. I wouldn’t want you to faint with hunger on me,” he said with the playfulness back in his voice. “Manny!” he called to Maninsky who was passing by. “Take Colonel Hoffman here and feed him some eggnog and spice cookies. I’ve got to go get ready.” To Hoffman he said, “How we got the ingredients for that food is a story in itself. People can get pretty clever.”

“I’m understanding that better all the time, Lieutenant,” Hoffman answered with wonder still in his voice.

Bryant was walking away, though, and didn’t really hear him.

Maninsky took Hoffman’s arm. “Come on, Colonel. Let’s get something to eat.”

But Hoffman was staring at Bryant’s disappearing form instead of listening. “Hmm?”

“The food. Let’s go get some of it,” Maninsky repeated.

“Oh. Of course.” He nodded at the room. “Who did all of this, Lieutenant?”

“We all did, but Lieutenant Bryant was the one who thought it up and was the ramrod of the whole project. Here’s a plate,” he said as he handed one to Hoffman.

“Lieutenant Bryant is a good person, perhaps better than he himself realizes,” Hoffman said. “But he does not like to hear anyone say so.”

“He doesn’t trust praise. He says it’s a tip-off that somebody wants something. Sometimes, I think he’s right. Come on. Let’s go sit over here.”

 

“I like your elf,” Davis said later as he sat down beside Bryant who was having some refreshment. “I thought you said he was a stuffed shirt.”

Bryant and Davis looked across the room to where Hoffman was leading a group of children in a game. 

“Not tonight.” He dusted cookie crumbs off his fingers. “He’s loosing up.”

Davis grinned. “I’d say quite a bit. You guys are getting along better, I see.”

Bryant shrugged. “He’s okay.”

Bryant had ditched his Santa costume, but Hoffman still wore a cotton lisle stocking on his head with its toe brushing his cheek whenever he turned.

“How did you get him to put on the stocking?” Davis asked as they watched.

“I didn’t,” Alex answered. “The owner of the stocking persuaded him.”

Davis grinned at Alex. “You mean he’s interested in a woman? That makes me the last hold out in camp, I suspect. Outside of the Catholic priest, that is.”

“Hardly. I think he did it because of the woman’s little girl.”

Davis frowned.

“It isn’t that way, George. The little girl reminds him of his daughter. He can’t be with her this Christmas, so these children are substituting for her. Sounds pretty great all the way around.”

“He must be pretty lonely.”

“Yeah, I think he is. But you know what?”

“What?” Davis asked as he looked at him.

“At least tonight he isn’t.”

“This was a good idea, Alex, for a lot of people. Especially for Hoffman. He‘s lucky he has you for a friend.”

“We’re not friends,” Alex muttered.

Davis studied Bryant. “Yeah, I can see that.”

 

Later that evening, the soldiers and villagers formed a group and sang Christmas carols. The last one sung was Silent Night. As the voices blended in two languages, unity filled the room. They were, after all, all Christians and no war could change that.

“Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht!” Hoffman sang.

Beside him, Bryant harmonized with, “Silent night! Holy night!”

When the singing started, they had sought out each other’s company because it seemed so natural to be together. They overlooked the potential consequences of laying their differences aside to enjoy themselves. They unconsciously decided not to let it matter anymore. They liked this new camaraderie and wanted to keep it.

A change in their relationship had occurred that evening. In helping to mix the Germans and Americans, the pair recognized their own brotherhood to each other. It was as if the healing that they had been trying to bring to others had finally come to them. 

During a night of amazing wonders, the magic of the Christmas season had worked its greatest miracle in them. They were truly a team, at last.

 

On Christmas afternoon Hoffman entered the office to find Bryant at his desk.

“A quiet day,” Hoffman said.

“Let’s hope next Christmas will be quieter for everyone.”

Hoffman nodded. 

At that very moment, other American soldiers were in the thick of the war effort. A terrific battle was being fought north of them in the Ardennes Mountains of Belgium. Men from both sides were dying, men who would never see another Christmas with their families. Old buddies of Bryant’s from the Third Army were even now headed north into the melee to rescue American soldiers surrounded by the Germans at Bastogne.

The severe winter weather of the upcoming 1945 would sorely test soldiers on both sides, and the month long battle just starting would be the bloodiest of the war. It would be called the Battle of the Bulge.

“Having to work today, Lieutenant?”

“Not really. I got a letter from home, and I was just reading it.”

Hoffman moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone then. Collins is still outside. He can walk me back to my quarters.”

“No. It’s alright. Stay.”

Hoffman sat in his chair in the corner, picked up a book, but paid it no attention.

“All is well?” Hoffman prompted. The need for mail from home is universal, and those that don’t receive it are grateful if someone shares with them.

Bryant smiled. “Maw says that my sister is being a brat.”

“You have a sister? So do I. She is a teenager.”

“So is mine. Well, Penny isn’t really my sister. And Maw really isn’t my mother. They took me in after I lost my own mother. But they are my family, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I do.”

“Here’s a picture of them.”

Hoffman walked over to look at the woman and teenage girl.

“They look like nice people.”

“They are. I’m glad they aren’t in the middle of this mess over here.”

Hoffman reached inside his coat and pulled out a picture, also. “My wife and daughter and sister.“

“You’re lucky. They look like a nice looking family. I expect you worry about them, though.“

Hoffman frowned. “I do. And the war gets closer to them all the time.”

“Where are they?”

“Berlin.”

“Oh, hell.” Bryant frowned. “I’m sorry. No wonder you worry.”

Hoffman pursed his lips. “Danka.”

“I expect you know that the whole damned Allied Forces will converge on Berlin as soon as they’re able,” Bryant muttered. “It’s the heart of Nazi Germany. That’s where Hitler will probably make his last stand.”

“I fear for my family,” Hoffman said with worry in his voice. “They are so innocent. My wife and my sister have always been sheltered by the men in the family, and now they are all alone.“ He smiled in remembrance. “Except for my darling, my little angel Lisl. She has a tiger in her heart, but she is only three years old.“ He frowned. “No. She is four years old. She has had another birthday since I last saw her.“ He shook his head in sadness. “So much I am missing in her young life. So much that will never be mine. So much I wish I could do for them, and I can do nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” That was the only solace Bryant could offer. “How long has it been since you’ve last heard from them?”

“Months. It has been months. Mail delivery was erratic with our retreating. At best, the mail caught up with us in a few weeks. And, now, since I am a prisoner, of course there is nothing.”

“That has to be tough, especially at Christmas.”

Hoffman nodded. “Ja.” Then he remembered something. “Here.” He reached in his pocket and handed something to Bryant. “This is for you.”

“What’s this?” Bryant asked. 

“A deck of cards.”

“I know what they are, but why are you giving them to me?”

“They were made in Italy. It was all I had to give, for Christmas,” he apologized. “I wanted to thank you for last night. I had a good time. I appreciated being included.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.“

“Oh, yes, you could have. Collins and Maninsky could have helped you.“

“But neither one of them is my teammate,” Bryant said softly.

“I thank you for that, too,” Hoffman muttered back.

Bryant stirred to cover the naked moment. “Well, thank you, but I have nothing for you.”

“You have given me a wonderful Christmas already. The party last night, sharing your family just now, and sympathy for mine are gifts that I will always treasure. I only wish I could have helped with the planning for the party.”

“Sorry. You should‘ve been included. You probably could‘ve helped gather those cooking ingredients together.” He reached in his pocket. “Wait, maybe I do have something for you.” Bryant pulled out an object and offered it to Hoffman.

Hoffman turned the round thing over in the palm of his hand. “It looks like a chestnut.”

“It’s a buckeye from my grandfather’s farm in Missouri. It’s a good luck charm. It's what's protecting my ornery hide.”

Hoffman offered it back. “Then you need it with you.”

“Keep it. I have several.” He grinned. “My people are very superstitious.”

“I thank you, but now you have given me more gifts than I have given you. My pitiful deck of cards does not compare.”

Bryant sobered. “You have given me more than you realize. I have gotten an insight from you that I never had before. The Germans aren’t faceless people to me anymore. By knowing you, I now know them.”

Hoffman nodded. He understood what Bryant meant. The Americans were people to him now, too. “It is good work that we do, you and me. And it is good that we finally represent it. Someone had a good idea.” He stared at Bryant. “But, Lieutenant, I think your commanders are wiser than even they realize. What we do will help people so much and will be more far reaching than any of us can ever imagine.”

Bryant nodded back.

 

Later, Alex thought he’d see if anyone could track down mail for Hoffman. That would really be a great Christmas present, even if it was late. American good will and companionship were appreciated, Alex was sure. But Hoffman needed more than what Alex could provide. He needed to hear from his family.


	15. The Woodland Latrine

“Where’s Hoffman?” Bryant asked as he approached the jeep. Deep winter was upon them, but today almost made a person hopeful that the year was moving into spring. Despite the warm day, Bryant still shivered with the early morning cold and dampness.

“Haven’t seen him yet,” Maninsky answered. He glanced up and shifted his carbine. “Oh, here he comes now.”

Bryant turned his head and saw Hoffman leaving his quarters and moving toward them.

“He looks a little green around the gills, Alex.”

Bryant frowned with agreement.

“What were you two drinking last night?”

“Nothing that should make him look like that. I can’t believe that I could drink a German under the table.”

Hoffman stopped on the other side of the jeep. He looked worse close up.

“Are you all right?” Bryant asked in wonder.

“Ja,” Hoffman answered. His face was pale and his hands were shaky. “Just a little stomach upset.”

“Do you want to cancel today?”

“No, it is important that we go.” He gingerly hauled himself into the shotgun seat of the jeep and sat looking grimly ahead through the windshield.

Bryant frowned as he studied Hoffman, then he looked at Maninsky and shrugged. “Then I guess we’ll go.” 

 

The jeep bounced over the rocky ground of the high plateau, but Bryant knew the landscape would soon even out as it dipped into a once green valley dotted with small farmsteads. The highland area they were in now was good for nothing but shepherds and goat herders.

“Stop!” Hoffman suddenly cried out.

 

Bryant looked around at the wasteland. “Where?”

“Anywhere!” Hoffman turned to him. “Please. I have to stop, Lieutenant.”

“There isn’t anything out here.”

“I don’t want to admire the scenery, I have to stop!”

“Oh. Well, just unzip and aim it out the side. We’re all guys here. You won’t embarrass either one of us.”

“It requires unzipping, pulling down, and hanging out. I don’t know if I could manage to maintain that perilous position and hang onto the side of the jeep while we continue down this bumpy road. It might get pretty messy. You might not like what could collect on the side of the jeep.”

“Shit,” Bryant mumbled and pulled off to the side of the road.

“That’s right. That’s what I have to do. But you don’t need to be so vulgar about it, Lieutenant.”

“That was an expletive. Americans say it a lot.” He turned off the engine and glanced at Hoffman‘s puzzled face. “Never mind.” He motioned with his hand. “There’s a nice bunch of trees up on that rise. Go do what you have to do.”

Hoffman didn’t move.

“What’s wrong?” Bryant demanded. “Change your mind? Waiting for an engraved invitation?” he asked sarcastically. “You won’t get one from me.”

“Aren’t you going along to guard me?”

“Shit!” Bryant mumbled. He’d forgotten about that.

Hoffman looked shocked. “Here? In your vehicle?”

Bryant groaned. “Christ! It’s an expletive! A cuss word!“

“Ah!“ Hoffman nodded with understanding.

One problem taken care of, now for the next.

“Maninsky!”

“Sir?”

“Escort our prisoner to yonder woodland latrine.”

“But--”

“That’s an order, soldier!”

“Begging the Lieutenant’s pardon, sir, but I didn’t sign up for any shit patrol.”

“Manny--”

“I’ll take a court martial first, Alex. Sir.”

“I would, too,” Bryant muttered. “Okay, Hoffman, hop to it before we have to trash the jeep and your uniform. I hear your stomach growling. I don’t want to get in on the smells and other noises.”

As if on cue, an ominous sound escaped Hoffman. “Sorry,” he muttered in embarrassment.

Bryant and Maninsky wrinkled their faces in disgust and waved the smell away.

“What the hell have you been eating?!” Bryant demanded. “Old rusty nails and striped kitties‘ hind ends?”

“Sorry,” Hoffman repeated and hauled himself gingerly out of the jeep. “It must have been the kraut and bean soup last night.”

“Jesus! That would kill a goat. No wonder you’ve got a pain this morning.” 

“My mother used to fix it that way. The last thing she would do when the bean soup was ready was to drain the kraut and mix it into the beans. It was a wonderful childhood memory.“

“Well, that’s all you’d better let it be from now on. You don’t have the intestines of a kid anymore. Jesus!“ He wrinkled his nose and waved the air in front of him again. 

“Sorry.”

“Oh, get the hell out of here, before there‘s no need anymore.” And then, almost in afterthought, he added, “And sing.”

Hoffman stared at Bryant. “What?”

“I want to hear you singing. The whole time you’re gone, until you poke your head back out of the trees.”

“Why?’

“So we can keep track of you. If I don’t hear you singing, I’ll come after you. And you’ll have two places to worry about wiping, because I’ll shove your face in it. Now, move! I’m not going along to hold your hand. You’re on your own.”

“What shall I sing?”

“Hell, I don’t care! Just so it’s loud. You’re not a lounge singer taking requests. Just sing!”

Bryant could hear Maninsky snicker behind him.

“Manny, you still might get to go.”

“Only at gunpoint.”

“That’s the only way I’d go, too,” Bryant mumbled. He looked at Hoffman expectantly. “Stop sounding like a newspaper reporter with a hundred questions and get going.”

Hoffman trudged away singing, “Under the lantern by the garden gate--” 

Bryant and Maninsky watched Hoffman pick his way through the rocks and disappear into the trees.

“What‘s that? ‘Lili Marlene?’”

“I think so.”

“He’s no Caruso, Alex, but he‘s not bad.”

“And we’re no critics. He did okay at Christmastime with ’Silent Night.’” 

“Maybe he should have chosen that one.“

“Not loud enough, I’d expect.“ He wrinkled his brow. “I just hope this goes okay, and none of us gets our butts in a sling because of it.”

But luck was against them because Captain Davis drove up.

“Shit,” Bryant mumbled.

“You’re going to need another cuss word, Alex. You’re in a rut with that one.”

“The captain’s stopping. I hope that the toe of his boot isn‘t looking to start kicking butt. If it is, we all might need new assholes before this is over.”

“Shit,” Maninsky breathed.

“Yeah,” Bryant agreed. “See how it seems to cover about any situation?”

The captain got out of his jeep, started toward Bryant’s jeep, stopped, looked puzzled at the loud singing coming from the bushes, then continued slowly toward Bryant’s jeep.

Bryant and Maninsky saluted.

“Captain,” Bryant greeted as if all was okay with the world at large.

“Bryant, what’s going on? I thought you were having trouble with your vehicle, so I stopped to see if I could help.” He looked toward the trees on the rise. “Who’s doing that god awful singing? Is that ‘Lili Marlene’ that I‘m hearing?”

“Yes, sir. There was a little emergency, sir, and we had to improvise a latrine. You know how that goes.”

Captain Davis smiled. “Of course. It’s caught all of us off guard.” He glanced at the empty seat beside Bryant, and his smile faded. “Lieutenant, where is your prisoner?!”

At that moment, the singing stopped as Hoffman walked out of the little woods.

Bryant’s face had a weak smile as his hand fluttered toward the approaching man. “There, sir.” His voice sounded faint, even to himself.

Davis’s face reddened. “You left your prisoner unattended?! What if he had escaped?!”

“That’s why he was singing, sir.”

Davis cooled some. “Bryant, you should have known better. I could have you court-martialed for this.”

Hoffman had gotten back to the jeep and was quietly listening. “Excuse me, Captain, but it was my fault. I had to make an emergency stop.”

“That I can understand, Colonel Hoffman, but leaving you unguarded is a gross dereliction of duty. And for that,” he looked back at Bryant, “I’m busting Bryant down to private. Maybe he can make First Class before he gets home.”

Bryant sighed and looked miserable.

“Maninsky!”

“Sir!”

“You‘re the officer in charge.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You saved Private Bryant’s butt, Colonel,” Davis continued. Then he put his hands on his hips and leaned into Bryant’s face. “But he deserves the guardhouse!” 

“Forgive me, sir,” Hoffman interrupted. “But I’m asking that you don’t do that.”

“What?!”

“Captain Davis, what Lieutenant Bryant and I are doing out here is good work. It is important work, too. And it should be done by officers of the two armies. It’s only good public relations. It shows that we’re a united front working for a common goal. We are seeking the betterment of the world by making Germany strong and productive again. We need to keep our team going.”

“That is true, Colonel,” Davis agreed. “But Bryant messed up. I cannot ignore that fact.”

“Captain, I would not have escaped. Especially since Lieutenant Bryant was clever enough to have me sing. And even if I would have escaped, where would I have gone? It’s still dangerous out here with roving bands of soldiers from each side involved in guerilla warfare. How could I have protected myself? I have no weapon.”

Only your mouth, Bryant thought. But he couldn’t help but admire the little Kraut boy‘s cleverness.

“I know where my next meal is coming from as long as I’m with you,” Hoffman continued. “And there’s a warm, safe bed waiting for me, too. Do you think I would have given all that up?”

In a heartbeat, Bryant bet, but he hoped the captain was buying it.

Davis was deep in thought. “All right, Colonel. You can have your teammate back, and as a lieutenant.”

Bryant breathed deeply in relief. Thank you, Hans Dieter, he thought.

“But Bryant,” Davis said as he turned to him and leaned against the jeep, “let me warn you. Don’t mess up again. You might not always have Colonel Hoffman around to bail you out.”

Bryant saluted. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!

“While you’re passing around your thanks, be sure to include the Colonel here. He saved your butt today.”

“I know, sir.”

“May I say something, Captain?” Hoffman asked.

“Of course, Colonel.”

“Lieutenant Bryant owes me no thanks. He has already saved my life. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him.”

“I understand that, Colonel, but gratitude should only go so far.”

“Then let’s just say then that I wanted to, shall we?”

Smooth, Bryant thought. Real smooth. No wonder Hoffman had gotten to be a Colonel.

“Let’s,” Davis agreed. “Bryant, I’d suggest you take real good care of the Colonel here.”

“I intend to, sir.”

“I don’t want to be having this conversation with you again.”

“No, sir.”

Davis leaned against the jeep. “Alex,” he said wearily. “Be careful, will you? You’re smarter than the rest, and I need you out here. But you’re your own worst enemy. I don’t know why you keep pulling these bonehead capers.”

“I don’t know either, Captain. Sometimes I’m just the victim of circumstance.”

“Aren’t we all? It’s a hell of a life, Alex. Be a victim of circumstance if you can‘t help it, but don‘t be a victim of life.”

“You know what they say about shit, don’t you?” 

“Yeah. It stinks.”

“And so does life.”

“Sometimes.” Davis looked exasperated. “Just stay out of its way when the stinky stuff starts flying toward you, huh? And stop giving me gray hair, would you?”

Bryant grinned. “Yes, sir!”

Davis slapped Bryant’s shoulder and stepped back. “Now, get the hell out of here.”

Bryant saluted him. “Yes, sir!”

Bryant started the jeep and sped away. He watched in his rearview mirror as Davis got in his jeep and disappeared over the hill.

“Do you want to call today off and go back to your quarters?” Bryant asked Hoffman.

“Nein. I’m feeling better now.”

“I’m glad.” His querulous voice displayed his feelings. “I’m glad someone is doing okay.”

“Come on, Lieutenant. You came out all right.”

“Only because of that spiel you gave the captain. Have you ever thought of being a used car salesman?”

“I got you into the mess. It was my responsibility to get you out of it.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Thanks.” He glanced at Hoffman. “I have to admit that performance was like watching a master craftsman at work. You bullshitted Davis better than I ever could‘ve done.”

“I’ve got a way with words.”

“You got a-way with murder!”

Hoffman grinned. “Danka. It‘s rewarding to be admired by a fellow master.”

“Hey, you two!” Maninsky hollered. “It’s getting awfully deep in here! I didn’t bring along my hip waders!”

“You’re just jealous,” Bryant shot back. “Besides, I had the sneaking hunch that Davis let himself be bullshitted. The old man is smarter than that.”

Hoffman nodded back.

The jeep was silent for long minutes.

“I meant what I said to Captain Davis,” Hoffman said as he turned to Bryant. “You and I are a team, and I will not work with anyone else. I am afraid that you are stuck with me, Lieutenant. Alas, I am nothing but a poor prisoner of war who is forced to work for the enemy. There is nothing that I can do about it.”

“How come I feel like the sorcerer’s apprentice then?” Bryant growled. 

“Why should you say that?“ Hoffman asked innocently. “You know that I am completely under your control.“

Bryant saw Hoffman’s eyes twinkle before Hoffman could turn away. Bryant caught his breath, and he gripped the steering wheel hard. The bastard was enjoying this! 

Bryant’s fingers relaxed and he felt a grin tug around his own mouth. He’d be damned if he wasn’t enjoying it himself.


	16. Hollering In A Hurricane

“Come on, you two,” Maninsky said as he helped the two drunken men out of the jeep. “Let’s get you back to your quarters. And keep quiet. We don‘t want to be heard.” 

\ Bryant and Hoffman giggled as they stumbled and clung to each other to keep from falling.

“Sh-h-h!” Bryant cautioned Hoffman. He waved his index finger in front of his lips as he attempted to blow on it without much success. He teetered back and forth.

“Sh-h-h!” Hoffman mocked and teetered, also. Then he laughed, leaned back, and hollered, “Everyone in camp, we are home!”

Bryant whooped, also. 

“Will you two just shut the damn up before Davis hears you?” Maninsky saw a figure fast approaching. “Uh, oh, too late. Oh, boy, our goose is cooked now.” Then in a louder voice, he said, “Evening, Captain Davis.”

Davis didn‘t look happy. “What the hell is going on here, Sergeant Maninsky?!”

“Just bringing the happy crew back, sir.” He looked away. “And, boy, are they happy,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Davis shoved himself in Bryant’s line of vision. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, soldier?”

“A-ten-shun! Officer present! Evening. Sir!“ Bryant gave Davis a lopsided salute, unbalanced himself, and kept from falling by grabbing onto Hoffman.

Hoffman brought himself up to a full salute, although he teetered on his feet. “Jawohl! Mon capitaine!” he yelled, then sputtered in derision and collapsed in laughter. 

“You dumb Kraut!“ Bryant hollered. “You just mixed your languages!”

“And I can do it in five languages, while you, my dear Lieutenant, can do it in only three!” He pointed at Davis. “Besides, he wouldn‘t know if I mixed ten languages!”

“Or twenty!” Bryant offered.

They convulsed in uncontrollable laughter.

“I see that you must’ve made a stop somewhere along the line to get something to drink,” Davis said aside to Maninsky as they watched the staggering drunks.

They insisted, sir,” Maninsky replied in misery. “Something about it being Abolition Day in Puerto Rico, whatever in the hell that is. I learned that it falls on March 22. I’ll never forget about it now.“ He nodded his head toward Bryant and Hoffman. “They got to talking about it on the way back. Colonel Hoffman knows a lot of facts like that. Then Lieutenant Bryant insisted that they stop and celebrate the holiday in honor of all of our dear Puerto Rican friends. Thank goodness, he let me drive later. They wanted to sit in back and concentrate on their singing.”

“So, could they sing?” Davis asked as he noted Maninsky’s suffering face.

“They could at Christmas. They sounded pretty rusty today. And, boy, do they have a repertoire. But I think I preferred it to Hoffman trying to teach Swahili to Bryant.”

“I didn’t know that Hoffman knows Swahili.”

Maninsky looked pained. “He doesn’t.”

“Hooray for Abolition Day!” Bryant whooped.

“Will you pipe down?!” Davis demanded. “You’ll have the whole camp awake!”

Bryant tried blowing on his index finger again to shush Davis. His inability tickled Hoffman who stumbled and nearly fell, but Bryant grabbed him and held him up. “Whoa, there, big fellah! Easy now. Easy now. Whoa!”

“That is what Gene Autry says to his horse!” Hoffman declared and tried to act indignant, but he seemed to be having trouble focusing his eyes. “I have learned that from American movies! I am not a horse!”

“Never said you were a horse,” Bryant explained. “I said you were a big fellah!”

They doubled up with laughter again.

“It’s been like that all the way back,” said the long-suffering Maninsky. “One dumb-assed joke after another. It wouldn’t be so bad, but they think they’re the next Laurel and Hardy. I wouldn’t even mind if the jokes were halfway funny. I’m about to kick Collies’ ass out of sick bay and take over his bed. There’s no way he’s feeling any worse than I am. I don’t care if he is swelled up like a watermelon and can’t talk. He’s going with us next time, I swear to Christ, he is. I don’t care if he has a temperature of a hundred and eight and is contagious as hell. I’m willing to take the chance that his disease might kill me. Death would be better than the company of these two, Captain.” 

“Sh-h-h!” Bryant cautioned. “Manny, you talk too much. Stop giving the Oration of the Year like you’re Patrick Henry, or something. You’re drawing attention to us.”

“I’M drawing attention to us?!”

“Sh-h-h! Will you be quiet?” He pointed at other soldiers watching nearby. “There’s people staring at us now, but notice that they are wisely not confronting us. They are afraid of us. ‘Cause they know that we’d take them, wouldn’t we, Hanzy?“

Davis glanced at Maninsky with a questioning look. Hanzy?

Maninsky simply raised his shoulders, sighed, and looked away.

“Jawohl, Mon Capitaine!” Hoffman confirmed with his mouth turned down in seriousness. Then he spoiled it by giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Guys--” Maninsky started.

“Manny, how can I explain it to you any plainer?” Bryant continued. “You’re going to have to pipe down. Stop trying to be the center of attention in this camp! We don’t want Captain Davis to know we’re flat-assed drunk. He’s finicky as hell about things like that, although he’s a walking lush himself. He’ll get a feather up his ass about it, but it won’t make him laugh. It’ll just irritate the hell out of him, and he‘ll fly off the handle again, just as usual. Then he’ll want to start doing his big captain routine, like he‘s some kind of hot shit around here or something.”

Maninsky grimaced. “Alex, will you just SHUT UP?!” 

Bryant studied Davis who was getting angrier as Bryant talked. “Manny, you’ve done it now. You’ve already drawn this shit kicker over here, and he looks mad as hell. I think he’s the type who could eat molten steel for lunch and shit nails the next morning without any regards whatsoever for his asshole. What’s he so pissed off about, anyway?”

Maninsky rolled his eyes and turned away. “I can’t watch,” he muttered. “It’s been nice knowing you, Alex. I’ll have your mail forwarded to you at Fort Leavenworth. I’m helpless. There’s no way I can kick dirt over this one”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Bryant demanded of Davis.

Davis stood with arms akimbo and glared down at Bryant. “Do you know who I am, Lieutenant Bryant?!”

Bryant’s mouth dropped open and he pointed a waving finger at Davis. “You’re Lieutenant Bryant, too?!” What a coincidence! So am I!” 

Maninsky grimaced and rolled his eyes.

Bryant jostled Hoffman to get his attention. “Hey! Hey! Will you listen to me a goddamn minute, Hanzy?” He pointed at Davis. “He’s Lieutenant Bryant, too!”

“Oh, no! The world is not ready for two of you! I know I am not!”

They exploded in laughter.

“Jesus Christ! Will you two just--” Davis started. “Listen, Bryant, that was a comma in there and then a question mark, not a question mark followed by a period.” He grunted in frustration. “What am I talking about?!” He tried a different approach. “Colonel Hoffman--”

Hoffman threw back his shoulders. “Jawohl, Mon Capitaine!” He managed to stay upright without teetering too much, and he didn’t burst into giggles. But the corners of his mouth were twitching, and his eyes were twinkling with childish glee.

Davis overlooked the salutation. “Colonel, you are a man of high principals and moral integrity. I’d expect behavior like this out of Bryant, but not out of you.”

“Jawohl, Mon Capitaine!” Hoffman answered and set himself and Bryant into helpless laughter again.

Bryant looked at the two drunks weaving in front of him. “Oh, hell, what am I doing?” he muttered. “I’m wasting my breath. There’s no reasoning with a drunk. I might as well be hollering in a hurricane as much as you two are listening to me.”

“When you say something worth hearing, then I’ll listen,” Bryant replied in a suddenly sober voice.

Dead silence fell on the foursome. Bryant had really done it now. Everyone knew he had stepped over a line. Davis couldn’t tolerate this type of behavior.

Maninsky braced for the explosion that was sure to follow. He didn’t have long to wait.

“Lieutenant, you are about ten seconds away from losing your commission.”

Maninsky thought that Davis was amazingly controlled for the situation.

“Again?“ Bryant gave Davis a lazy smile. “Then you’d just give it right back to me. You always do. You love me too much to stay mad at me for very long.” 

“Love can be fickle, don’t you know that?“ But Bryant kept giving him that stupid, lopsided grin. “Shit,“ Davis muttered. “Maninsky, get these two to their quarters,” Davis ordered in consternation. “Let them sleep it off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bryant brought himself up straight. “Sir! I will see to my prisoner, sir!”

“Well, then, I wish the hell you would!”

Bryant grabbed Hoffman’s arm. “Come on, prisoner.” Then he nearly fell from a fresh explosion of laughter, but Hoffman steadied him. “You are my prisoner!”

“I am your prisoner!” Hoffman roared back with a peal of laughter.

“Come, prisoner!” He grabbed Hoffman’s arm and they wove off together.

“Which way to my prison, jailer?!”

“Beats the hell out of me!”

“Let’s try this direction!”

“Sounds great to me! Hey, tomorrow, I get to be the prisoner! Then you can spoil me like I’ve been spoiling you!”

Hoffman stopped. “Spoiling me?!”

“That’s right! Spoiling you!”

“You never--”

“I do!”

Hoffman swung at him and Bryant swung back. Both missed. Teetering, they measured for a second attempt at a blow.

“Stand still!” Bryant ordered.

“You stand still first!” Hoffman retaliated. 

“Sir--” Maninsky started with concern in his voice as he and Davis watched.

But Davis was grinning. “Don’t worry. About the only thing they could hit in their condition is the ground.”

As if to prove Davis’s theory, the drunken men swung, missed each other again, and lost their balances. They would have fallen if they hadn’t grasped onto each other.

“Come on, Hanzy, let’s go find someplace to sit down. You look tired.”

“Hanzy?“ Davis asked Manny as they watched the two stumble away arm in arm.

“Hey, Hanzy for Hans sure beats Hoofer for Hoffman. After naming Hoffman that, Bryant wanted me to stop on a bridge so Hoffman could dance. If he was a real hoofer, he could make those wooden planks really clatter. Hoffman refused, saying he did not have his favorite conductor with him for the orchestra. Bryant volunteered, but Hoffman got indignant and said that Bryant was not his favorite conductor. Bryant then accused him of being a temperamental artist, and Hoffman countered huffily that he did not have to cater to a common element with its plebian tastes. And on and on and on.”

“They deserve each other,” Davis muttered.

“Are they going to be alright? Will they try to kill each other if they‘re alone?”

“You’ve been around them longer today than I have. What do you think?”

“I think it’s their influence on other people that I should worry about. Those two will be able to outlast most sane men. I know I‘m ready to yell ‘Uncle.’” Maninsky frowned. “Ah, Captain, you aren’t going to bust Bryant for real, are you?”

Davis sighed. “How the hell could I? As Alex said, I love him. Besides, I’m responsible for those two being together. The assignment required that they worked as one. I wanted them to get closer to each other so they could do a better job.”

“Well, that you got done, sir. You can be congratulated.”

Davis sighed again. “Yeah, sometimes I amaze even myself.”

They watched the two drunks as they reached the edge of the compound. Some intense conversation issued from them, but it didn‘t look like they were going to get into another fistfight. Bryant suddenly grabbed Hoffman’s head and pushed Hoffman down so he was bent double at the waist.

“What the hell is going on?” Davis asked.

The sounds of retching were heard across the compound.

“I believe Hoffman is being sick, and Bryant is holding his head, sir.” There was a long pause, the men changed positions, then more retching could be heard. “Now Bryant is being sick, and Hoffman is holding his head.”

“Monkey see, monkey do,“ Davis muttered. “They’re taking this teamwork thing a little bit too far, even for them. I never expected this much cooperation. Come on, we’d better get them to the latrine before their other ends kick in, too. I don’t want them urinating all over the tents.”

“They probably won’t have to do that for awhile, sir,” Maninsky explained as they crossed the compound. “They insisted on stopping just outside camp and writing their names in the snow. They were hoping the nurses were watching their artistic ability and marveling at their, ah, natural endowments.”

“Shit,” Davis muttered.

“They didn’t do that, sir, but it’ll probably come next. I‘m just glad I wasn‘t appointed the judge in the proposed competition they had in mind. They wanted me to decide which one had the bigger peter. Honest,“ he said to Davis’s startled face. “There was some talk of it. I nearly got drafted. But God in his infinite mercy spared me that one.” He grinned at Davis. “But just between you and me, Captain, the German would be the winner. You know what they say about German sausages. Well, Hoffman has one.”

“Well, his isn‘t all whittled down the way that Bryant‘s is. I doubt if anybody‘s is.” Davis grinned at Maninsky. “I thought maybe you‘d take part in that contest, instead of being a judge. I understand that you‘re no slouch in that department.” 

“Family inheritance,“ Maninsky agreed. “We have satisfied wives who never stray for that reason. But I didn’t want in the middle of either of those pissing contests between Alex and Hoffman. I wasn’t having as much fun as they were, but I bet I’ll feel better in the morning than they do.”

“Well, let’s get them all cleaned out and hosed off so they can sober up quicker.”

“Bryant will probably want to get drunk again when he remembers what he said to you tonight.”

“Let’s hope that he doesn’t do either.”

Maninsky and Davis stopped by the weaving men. The stench on them and around them was overwhelming. Davis and Maninsky curled their noses in disgust.

Hoffman beamed. “Captain Davis! There is a man on base impersonating Lieutenant Bryant, and he looks amazingly like you.”

“I’ve heard.” He looked at Bryant who was feebly clutching Hoffman’s arm and leaning against him. “He doesn’t look so good.”

“Alas,” Hoffman agreed, patting Bryant‘s arm. “Unlike me, he cannot hold his liquor very well.”

Davis and Maninsky rolled their eyes at each other. 

Bryant looked up. “George!” He released Hoffman’s arm and hurled himself into Davis‘s arms. “I‘m your buddy, George! Did you know that?”

Davis waved away Bryant’s offensive odor. “I know that, Alex.”

“Always your buddy, George,” he blubbered. “Nobody will ever, ever be able to split us up. We’ve come a long ways together. We’re buddies forever.”

“I know,” Davis said. To Manny, he said, “I hate it when drunks get sentimental. You help Hoffman, and maybe we can get things quieted down around here again.”

Maninsky took Hoffman‘s arm. “Come on, Colonel. Let‘s get you home.”

“Jawohl, Mon Capitaine!”

“That Hoffman can drink!” Alex confided in awe to Davis. “ And never get in a pissing contest with him. He must have a bladder like a Russian race horse, ‘cause he can sure piss like one. His snow writing was not dainty.”

“I’ll remember that, Alex,” Davis said, leading him away. 

Bryant grimaced. “I don’t feel very well, George.”

“I know. Come on. We’ll get you fixed up. You’ll feel better later on when you‘ve rested. You’ve had yourself quite a day, haven‘t you?”

“Did you know that this is Abolition Day in Puerto Rico?”

“Yeah. I heard about that just recently.”

“Wonderful day. Wonderful people. Let’s drink to them, George!”

“Maybe later. I‘m a little tired right now. It‘s time to rest.”

“Not feeling well? You’ve got to learn to take care of yourself, George. We can’t do without George Davis.” He looked at Davis. Even through his drunkenness, his eyes were misty. “I can’t do without you, George. You‘re my friend forever.”

“I know.” Davis sighed inwardly. He could do without sentimental drunks, but he knew that Bryant’s feelings were sincere despite his current condition. “I’ll be careful.”

 

Bryant didn’t appear until late the next morning. When he entered the mess tent, his eyes were bloodshot and he walked like his feet had glass embedded in them.

“Morning, Alex,” Maninsky greeted. “Just having coffee for breakfast?”

“Hmm,” Bryant answered as he sat across from Maninsky.

“If you feel half as bad as you look, you must be in one hell of a shape.”

“If there’s a God,” Alex said weakly, “that German is still passed out.”

“Hoffman? He’s feeling real good today. He had a big breakfast and is playing basketball right now. He said that he’s looking forward to lunch. I understand we’re having creamed brains and pickled cabbage with molasses gingerbread. Hoffman said that he wants double helpings.” Maninsky frowned. “Alex? What‘s wrong?” 

Bryant slapped his hand over his mouth and ran from the tent.

“Did I make your stomach upset again?” Manny muttered to himself and sipped his coffee. “Oh, by the way, maybe I was mistaken about Hoffman. Maybe I stretched the truth a little. Maybe he really is still asleep.” His voice got an edge to it. “And maybe you shouldn‘t have been such a shit heel to me yesterday.” 

He should be feeling better. He’d gotten even with Bryant, hadn’t he? Why wasn’t he rejoicing?

Revenge wasn’t as sweet as he‘d hoped, because his conscience was nagging at him a little. He felt justified in his actions, though, and partially vindicated. Bryant was his friend, but he’d put Manny through one hell of a day yesterday.

Manny hoped Alex wouldn’t check on Hoffman for awhile. Manny figured Alex would be too busy with his own problems.

Davis entered the tent, poured himself a cup of coffee, and pointed his thumb over his shoulder as he sat down at the place vacated by Bryant. “I just saw Alex hightailing it for the latrine. He still doesn’t look very good.”

“No, sir.” Why wasn’t he feeling any joy?

“He sure was an asshole yesterday. He deserves every little twinge of nausea he’s experiencing now, doesn’t he?”

“That he does, sir.” Finally! A little bitter triumph.

“Wonder how he’ll act when he feels better and figures things out?”

“Sir?” Why this guilt? He wasn’t at fault.

“I was listening outside the tent. We’re having stew over biscuits for lunch and applesauce, not that pile of nauseating crap you told him. You deliberately flipped his stomach for him, didn‘t you?”

Manny looked at him sharply. “Are you his guardian angel?”

“Maybe.” He stared at Maninsky. “And maybe yours, too.”

Manny frowned and turned away. 

“Or maybe your conscience?”

Manny‘s face was filled with misery. “It was pretty low of me, wasn’t it?”

“The trouble with revenge is that it doesn’t make you feel any better. In fact, I think you’re not enjoying it one bit. Do you know the expression, ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold‘?”

“Yes, but I never knew what it meant.”

“It means you have to be pretty cold-hearted to carry it through. And, Manny, I’m sorry, but you’re just not a cold-hearted bastard. You never will be. I think that Alex has it in him, but you don’t. We have to make allowances for the Alexes in the world. We forgive them because we have to. We love them too damned much to do otherwise. The pleasure of their company makes up for what we consider to be their shortcomings in our eyes.”

Maninsky pursed his lips.

Davis continued. “Any rift with Alex will only hurt us, but never him. He’ll always go blithely on, with or without us. It won’t hurt him, but it will kill us. We have to take him on his terms, because he sure as hell won’t change to accommodate us. But he makes it so damned much worth our while to accept him the way he is. For that, we can forgive him almost anything. And he does have his good qualities. He’s fiercely loyal to his friends. And he does know a thing or two about having fun. Hell, he even overlooks my roughshod ways. No one will ever accuse me of having grace and congeniality. I crash around like a bull in a china shop, but for some reason he goes along with me. Do you think he’d give me the same assessment I‘ve given him?” He grinned. “That we have to make allowances for the Davises in the world?” 

Manny grinned back. “Maybe, sir.“

“That’s what friendship is, Manny. We know each others' faults, and we still stay friends. That’s what makes us, and our friendships, so unique.“ He studied Maninsky. “You‘re at a crossroads here, Manny. You have to make it up to him, or you‘ll kick yourself forever. Life is short. Don‘t leave a buddy behind out of pride. The decision is yours. He might not ever catch on about what you did. But you‘ll always know the truth, and you won‘t like yourself very well because of it. He might not ever be aware of the strain in your friendship, but you will. You don‘t want to feel forever what you‘re feeling right now, do you?” 

Manny looked down at the useless cup before him. The coffee was suddenly tasteless. It wasn’t what he was wanting.

“Why don’t you go take care of your friend,” Davis said softly. “Or you’ll never feel right around him again. Do it now. Don‘t let it fester.”

Manny breathed in relief and smiled at Davis. “Yes, sir.” He jumped to his feet, then looked down at Davis. “Thank you. Sir. You‘re a good friend, to both of us.”

Davis nodded over his shoulder. “Go on. Get out of here.”

Manny patted Davis’s shoulder as he passed him. 

Davis sipped on his coffee after Maninsky left. They were all a bunch of children, and he had to treat them as such.

He finished his coffee, set his cup down, and heaved himself to his feet.

But they were his children, and he would take care of them. 

They were also his friends. And he would take care of them.

They were friends and buddies, and he trusted them with his life. Hell, it was only because of them that he was still be breathing. He owed them everything.

But he wouldn’t be sorry to see the last of them or of this damned war. He had other things on his mind.

His time in Europe was about over. And like every other American soldier here, part of his mind was on the future.

‘Get ready, Ellie,’ he thought as he left the tent. ‘When I get back, it’s going to be just you and me, for a month, in the cabin up at Lake Tahoe. Don’t pack much. You won’t be needing many clothes. Just your outfit in and out.’ He grinned to himself.

‘We’ll figure out some way to keep warm. I don’t care if it is the middle of winter, you won’t freeze. I’ll make sure of that. Maybe the second month after I’m back, we’ll invite the rest of the family up for awhile. There’s surely a second cabin close by where they can stay.’ He grew thoughtful. ‘We can celebrate Tyler’s birthday together again, and Christmas. This will be his, what? Eighth? Jesus, I’ve missed the last two of our grandson‘s birthdays. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do, don’t I? And I won’t get bored with the family being around us so much, not ever again. Just so I get out of this hellhole to be with all of you again. It surely won’t be too much longer now.’

‘I could write a letter home,’ he thought as he crossed the compound. ‘But I can’t say what I want to say to Ellie. Why should I share my secret plans with the damned censors? Ellie will just have to use her imagination.’ A new thought struck him. ‘She’s probably got her own plans for me!’ That cheered him up immensely, and he quickened his step as he winked into the air. ‘Get ready, honey. I’m coming home!’


	17. The Empty Space Beside Him

“Well, Colonel Hoffman, peace has been formally signed, and I am in a dilemma as what to do with you.” Captain Davis tented his large hands in front of his chin and looked over them at the two men sitting in wooden chairs in front of his desk. “Since you’re a high ranking officer of the Third Reich, you could be held for war crime trials. But since you cooperated with us and have been aiding with rehabilitation efforts, you could be exempt from punishment. I am sure that Lieutenant Bryant would be ready to testify on your behalf.”

Hoffman and Davis exchanged glances, then both looked at Bryant.

Alex felt that the situation called for a response. “Whatever the Captain thinks is appropriate, I will comply.”

“I would think so, Lieutenant, especially since you owe your bars to the Colonel here.” He enjoyed Bryant’s discomfort. “Come on, Alex, see the humor in all of this. Colonel Hoffman doesn’t look much like a guardian angel, but he’s yours. And you two have done such a good job that the powers that be think you should keep it up. And I should also remind you, Colonel, that Lieutenant Bryant is your good luck charm. Spreading the good word to your countrymen with him is a better prospect than languishing in a prison somewhere. Same deal as before, but now it‘s after the war.”

Hoffman cleared his throat. “So you are saying, Captain Davis, that it would be in the best interests of Lieutenant Bryant and myself to, as your theater people would say, keep taking our act on the road?”

“I never did quite approve of that way of rehabilitation. Showing your people old American musicals was somebody’s idea of trying to reeducate the Germans.”

“You mean Americans don’t sing and dance in the streets?”

Davis raised an eyebrow. “Colonel Hoffman, even my seven-year-old grandson would know that you are pulling my leg. But, yes, that’s what’s wrong with those films. They give a wrong idea of American life.” He pushed back in his chair. “So, gentlemen, I assume you are willing to continue with your work?”

Hoffman and Bryant glanced at each other.

“You would assume right, Captain,” Bryant conceded.

Davis stood. “Well, then, I’ll let you be on your way.”

Hoffman and Bryant stood. Bryant saluted and Davis returned the salute. The team turned to leave.

“Oh, Colonel, a word of warning.”

Hoffman and Bryant turned back.

“There’s some of your countrymen who do not like what you are doing. Be careful. Alex, watch out for him.” 

“Thank you, Captain,” Hoffman answered.

“I will, Captain,” Bryant promised. “He’s my good luck charm. He’s better than a buckeye.”

 

It was late afternoon about two weeks later, and Bryant was just finishing his reports. Hoffman was sitting in the far corner of the office reading a book. They had been unusually quiet since returning from a day of talking to German people and they’d learned that Captain Davis was missing. Davis had gone to a meeting of his own which included surveying a battlefield intended for a future agricultural development. Hoffman could sense that Bryant was worried and respected Bryant‘s silence.

The door opened and Bryant looked up. “Any word on the Captain yet?” he asked Sergeant Collins. “He’s long overdue.”

Collins looked evasive and very tired. “They just brought him in.”

Bryant frowned and Hoffman looked up from his book.

“What do you mean, they brought him in? Don‘t you mean he came in?”

“No, Alex, they brought him in.“ He looked weary. “What they could find. There was a bloody mess back at the scene, so they just threw dirt over it and said a little prayer for him.” He frowned. “They brought in what they could. His head and shoulders, mainly.”

Bryant pushed back his chair. Did Collie mean George Davis, the man Bryant drank with and served with, the superior officer who chewed him out and kept him around anyway because he thought Bryant was worthwhile, had gotten blasted all to hell? That George Davis? No, not him. Not George. Collins couldn’t be talking about him.

“What do you mean, Collie?”

“I’m saying he’s dead, Alex,” Collins answered with great effort. “He must‘ve triggered an unexploded shell. He was there one minute, talking and walking with the guys, and planning how the farms would be best laid out. And then there was this explosion. And then he just wasn’t.“ He frowned. “He just wasn’t, anywhere, anymore.“ He breathed deeply. “There wasn’t much left.”

The room grew silent as the reality of the news sank into each man.

Hoffman stood up. He looked shaken himself. “Gentlemen, I am so sorry for the loss of the captain. He was a good man.”

Bryant stared at Hoffman as if he was trying to place him in this suddenly surreal world. What the hell was a German doing here, and not George Davis?!

“I enjoyed knowing Captain Davis,” Hoffman continued. “I will miss him.”

Why the hell was this German offering an opinion of Alex’s buddy? Who asked him, anyway?

Bryant was suddenly across the room gathering Hoffman’s shirt front in his hands and shoving Hoffman against the wall.

“Shut up with your fake sympathy! You’re nothing but a Kraut! You don’t care if he’s dead! It’s one less of us for you to have to deal with!”

Collins grabbed Bryant’s arm. “Alex, let him go!”

Bryant scowled and shoved Hoffman harder against the wall. He heard Hoffman grunt, but Hoffman did not raise his hands to defend himself. “I’m going to--” Alex started.

“No, you’re not! Alex, the Colonel didn’t do this.”

“But someone like him did!” 

“Alex, think! It was an accident. The field was supposed to be cleared. A mistake was made by our people, and a good man is dead because of it. Hitting the Colonel here isn’t going to change that. Alex,” he said softly, “you don’t want to hurt him. It won’t make you feel any better. In fact, knowing you, you’ll only feel worse. He’s not at fault. You couldn‘t live with yourself if you harmed an innocent man, especially if it‘s somebody you know. It’s Hoffman, Alex. He didn’t do anything. He wouldn’t have injured Davis, even if he’d had the chance. You know that. Let Hoffman go before you hurt him.”

Bryant released his death grip and turned away. Hoffman straightened his shirt and twisted his neck. He looked with concern at Bryant and started to speak, but Collins frowned at him and shook his head slightly. Hoffman moved back toward his chair. 

Collins touched Bryant’s arm. “Come on, Alex. I’ll take you back to your quarters.”

Bryant tried to concentrate. “No, wait. Hoffman. Did I hurt him?” He pulled away from Collins. “I have to see to Hoffman.”

Collins glanced at the sad-faced German. “He’s okay. He can take care of himself.”

“This shouldn’t have happened, not to Davis,” Bryant muttered as he gazed at Collins in bewilderment.

“I know.”

“Davis was the best. He shouldn’t be dead. Ellie and that seven-year-old grandson and the rest of his family should be getting him back at the end of this war, not just a few of his possessions. He shouldn‘t be staying here. Not forever.”

“I know, Alex.”

“It’s not fair!” Alex twisted away from Collins, grabbed an glass ink bottle off his desk, and slung it against the wall.

He’d forgotten that Hoffman was standing by that wall.

Bryant and Collins froze in horror at what they saw.

Hoffman stood with his hands over his face. A trickle of blood seeped around his fingers. Ink stained the wall beside him and broken glass sparkled near his feet.

Bryant blanched. “My God, his eyes! I‘ve blinded him!”

Collins grabbed Hoffman‘s arm. “Colonel, are you okay?!”

Hoffman mopped blood with a handkerchief. “I’m fine. My hand is cut a little.”

Alex turned for the door. “I’ve got to get out of here before I kill him!” 

“Alex, wait! His eyes are okay. He’s not hurt that bad! It was an accident, just like with Davis!”

Bryant stopped and looked back at the two men. “I’m going somewhere to get very drunk and then tear hell out of something.” He pointed at Hoffman. “But I don’t want it to be him. I don’t want to hurt him. So keep me away from him” And then he stumbled out the door.

“Alex--“

“Go after him, Sergeant. I can’t leave alone. And he’s going to get in trouble.”

Collins paused. “He didn’t mean it. He wouldn‘t hurt you, not really.”

“I know. Now, go. I’ll be all right.”

 

Hoffman’s prediction came true. Even Collins couldn’t keep Alex’s anger from spilling over. Alex started a bar fight and slugged Collins hard enough to send Collins to the hospital and Alex to the guardhouse.

Alex, who had always blithely turned his back on other people and had walked away from them without a twinge of remorse, learned what it felt like to be the one left. A big empty space stood beside him that George Davis would never fill again, and Alex found out that no amount of grieving would ease the tightness in his chest.

When Alex finally got out, days had passed and he’d been demoted again. And Captain Davis wasn’t there to reinstate him.

 

Alex looked a little sheepish as he crawled into the jeep beside Collins. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. I could’ve walked, but I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to talk to me again.”

“You were hurting that night,” Collins said as he drove the jeep. “Someone needed to help you.”

Alex glanced at him. “Speaking of hurting, how bad did I bust you up?”

Collins moved his jaw around. “It was a sucker punch. I should’ve realized you’d swing at anything in your state.”

“I guess you know I’m sorry.” He decided that he had to say it plainer for Collins to realize he meant it. “I’m sorry, Collie. I really am. You‘re one of my best friends, and I can’t lose any more. I’m already short one. I wouldn‘t hurt you for the world. I hope you know that. I‘m really sorry.”

“I know.” He gave Alex a half-grin. “It’s nice to hear, though.“ He grimaced as he moved. “My leg hurts worse than my jaw.”

“Your leg?” Alex asked, mystified. “How did I hurt that?”

Collins sighed. “You didn’t. When you hit me, I twisted it on the way down. I still limp a little.” He gave Alex a full grin. “I slipped in spilled beer.”

Alex grinned back. “Bad waste of good beer.”

“I cried for a week.”

Both men grinned. It felt good to make up.

 

When they got to headquarters, Bryant reported to the new commander, Captain Reardon.

“I’m not saying that you won’t get your commission back, Bryant,” Reardon said. “You always seem to bounce back, and I think you will again.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me. The work that you and Colonel Hoffman have been doing is too important to jeopardize. In fact, it’s more important than either one of you. You two have become a symbol, a symbol that must continue, at least for a little while. That‘s why we need your help now, and, incidentally, why you got out of the guardhouse so soon. Don‘t mess up again.” 

Bryant sighed. “Yes, sir.” 

Reardon glanced at Collins. “Did you tell him anything about Colonel Hoffman, Sergeant?”

“No, sir, you ask me not to.”

Bryant looked at Collins, but Collins only stared straight ahead. Bryant frowned. “What’s wrong with the Colonel? Did I hurt him, Collie?”

Collins shook his head slightly, but did not look at Bryant.

“Nobody’s fists could hurt him this bad,” Captain Reardon began. “The way I understand it, Colonel Hoffman received a letter from his sister. The letter had been chasing him around for months, and it might’ve been better if he’d never received it.” He paused dramatically. “I don’t know how it ever found him.”

Bryant frowned. That was the letter he had sought for Hoffman.

“Apparently things had gone badly for his family at home,” Reardon explained. “As it had for many German civilians. His daughter had sickened and died.”

Alex blinked and sucked in his breath. Hoffman thought the world of that little girl of his.

Reardon was continuing. “And his wife was nearly insane with grief from that loss. The sister was caring for the wife and herself, but needing help. I thought maybe the colonel would demand to be sent home, but he must’ve gone into shock. He just lies on his cot and hardly stirs. He refuses food and takes very little water. Quite frankly, we are worried about him. We don’t want him to die on us. Since you’ve worked with him, we thought maybe you could bring him around.”

Bryant swallowed and nodded.

“Our symbol needs to be repaired. Life needs to come back to someone who is no longer our enemy. Damn it, Bryant, this is the crux of your public relations program. Just think of the publicity: American soldier saves German counterpart. See what you can do for him, will you?”

So that’s why I’ve been released so soon with the hint that my commission could be restored, Bryant thought. Once again, Hoffman had saved him, but at what price to Hoffman?

“I’ll try, sir.” Bryant saluted and left. He was more worried about Hoffman than saving the program or this asinine captain who had replaced Davis.

 

Bryant and Collins stood staring down at Hoffman. Captain Reardon was right. Hoffman just lay on his cot, staring ahead.

“How long has he been this way?” Bryant asked Collins in a soft voice.

“Almost a week. I bring him food, but he refuses it.”

“Let me talk to him awhile. You go ahead and go get some chow. Maybe you could bring a little soup back for him.”

“The cooks made some good cake today. I’ll bring some of that. Maybe you could get him to eat that, too, Alex.” 

Alex glanced at his friend. Collins was worried, also.

“Whatever you think might tempt him, Collie.”

Bryant pulled a chair up to Hoffman’s cot and sat down. “Colonel? It‘s Bryant. I‘m back. A little worse for wear, but I‘m back.” He tried a grin, but somehow that didn’t quite feel right so he let it fade. Bryant saw the scabs on Hoffman’s fingers and realized how closely he’d come to blinding Hoffman. “Look, I hope you know I didn‘t mean what I said after we found out about Captain Davis,” he said, and those few words made him feel lighter. “The news hit me pretty hard. I’m sorry I called you names and roughed you up. I was just upset. I liked Davis a lot, but I know you liked him, too. He was a great guy.” He bit his lips together. “This war is hell on all of us. I know we‘ve all lost good people in our lives.”

Hoffman didn’t look at him, but Bryant saw his head stir a little.

“I’m sorry about your daughter, Hans Deiter. That must be a terrible thing to have to live with. I can‘t imagine the pain you‘re going through. I‘m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Hoffman blinked his eyes.

“But I can imagine what you’ve been thinking. You wanted to protect your family and couldn’t. You must feel like you’ve failed.”

Hoffman screwed his eyes shut and breathed deeply.

“You must feel like you’ve lost everything: war, country, family, honor. But you haven’t. Your wife and sister need you. This war isn’t over yet, it’s just changed its face. Your toughest battles may be coming up. We need to rebuild your country and we still need your help to do that. I know you want to shut this world out, but you can’t add to the insanity by giving up. It’s going to take a lot of effort, but you’re going to have to get up and get busy. And it’s going to hurt. I’m still hurting about Captain Davis, and I know you are, too. I was just so broken up that afternoon that I didn’t want to admit that anyone else had any grief. I think the only way we can handle all of this misery is if we stick together. I hope you can help me, and I’m going to try my hardest to help you. How does that sound for being a team? Captain Davis always said we were one, and so we’ll join forces. We have to justify his faith in us. Maybe that’s the way we can honor him.”

Hoffman didn’t say anything, but Bryant thought he saw tears in his eyes.

“Sergeant Collins is going to bring some supper back to you. I’m going over and get some chow myself, then I’m bringing my cot over here. I’ll stay with you for awhile. Is that all right?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Hoffman said in a voice weak from misuse.

 

Just hearing his voice startled Bryant. “Let’s just say I want to, shall we?” And repeating Hoffman’s words to Davis stabbed them both in the heart. “Look, I’m the one responsible for the letter finding you,” Bryant said in a rush to confess. He hadn’t realized that he was feeling so guilty until he immediately felt lighter. “I thought it’d be a nice belated Christmas present. I thought you needed to hear from your family. I’m so sorry it contained bad news.” 

Hoffman rolled onto his side away from Bryant. “You did not know.”

Alex watched Hoffman’s stiff back for a moment, then placed his hand on Hoffman’s shoulder. He felt Hoffman tremble under his hand. “You’re not alone anymore, but you‘ll have to tell me how I can help. Just let me know.” When he had no response, he padded Hoffman‘s shoulder. “I’ll be back,” he promised and left.

Hoffman lay quietly, then his shoulders began to shake. He sucked his breath in, a dam burst inside him, and he was convulsed with wrenching sobs.

When Bryant returned, Hoffman was asleep and his supper had been eaten. 

Bryant set up his cot and was soon asleep himself.


	18. Deep In The Night

Bryant awoke deep in the night. Where in the hell was he? Even without much light in the room, he knew this room wasn’t his quarters. He knew he’d been drinking the evening before, but had he gotten drunk enough to wander into somebody else’s area? He looked down and blinked in amazement. And had he brought his cot and bedding with him? How drunk had he gotten?

Then he remembered. He was in Hoffman’s quarters, and he realized why he’d awakened. He thought he’d heard a noise coming from Hoffman. 

There it was again. A moan? A sob? Shit, better check it out. He was here to take care of Hoffman, after all. Bryant tossed his blanket aside and stood. Whoa, he thought, and shook his head. I shouldn’t have had that last beer. He grinned. I shouldn’t have had that last six beers. He was definitely feeling the effects of the evening’s activities with Collie and Manny. But that was past history Now he needed to see if he could help Hoffman.

Still half drunk, he stumbled across the shadowy room. Although it was warm weather, it felt odd to be wandering around clothed only in a tee shirt and shorts. Good old G.I. gear, he thought with a grin. Nothing fancy. Just like him. General Issue. 

Then he lost his grin and sobered as he looked down at Hoffman.

The German lay on his back on his cot. His eyes were wide open, and he was staring straight at the ceiling. Bryant could tell he was grieving by the tears glistening on his face. Hoffman seemed unaware of Bryant’s presence.

Then Bryant must have made some noise or Hoffman became aware of something beside him. He glanced up at Bryant in his underclothes shimmering white in the dim light and almost recoiled. Bryant probably looked like a specter. Then he recognized Bryant and turned his face away. 

Bryant knelt beside the cot on his knees spread apart for balance. He was still trying to wake up and focus. “What’s wrong?“ he mumbled.

“Nothing,” Hoffman mumbled back. “Go back to bed.”

“Now, I know there’s something wrong. You‘re awake when you should be asleep. Are you upset? Of course, you‘re upset, terribly upset,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can get you?” he asked gently. 

Hoffman shook his head. “Nein,” he muttered. “I did not mean to awaken you. You need your sleep. You look unwell.”

“I’m just a little woozy, ‘cause it’s the middle of the night. And I’m stumbling around like a disoriented bat. But that’s nothing compared to your problems.”

“I am sorry I disturbed you. I guess a grown man should not cry.”

“For just this once, forget your damned German stoicism, will you? You have the right to grieve.” He struggled to clear his head. “How can I bring you some relief?”

“There is nothing. You are here. That is enough.”

“How can I take your mind off things? I know, we could play some cards,“ he said cheerfully. “I have this great deck that this real nice guy gave me for Christmas.”

Hoffman simply shook his head.

Bryant felt helpless, so he did the only thing that he thought might give the other man some comfort. He placed his hand on Hoffman’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m here for you,” he murmured.

Hoffman turned his body to the wall, away from Bryant, and left Bryant‘s hand dangling in empty air. But that did not deter Alex. Some psychic sense told him that Hoffman wanted Alex’s sympathy even though he had turned away. Besides, rejection hurt. “Don’t shut me out, Hans Deiter,” he pleaded. “I can take anything, but that. Let me help you. Let me sympathize with you. Let me touch you. Please.”

Outside of accidentally brushing past someone, Hoffman realized that he had not truly touched or been touched by anyone for months. One of the few people had been Bryant, and there had been several instances of the contact: Bryant holding him down in the mud to avoid getting shot, Bryant shoving him away from the angry villagers, Bryant throwing his arm around Hans when he tried to convince him to play Santa Claus. It had been Bryant, always Bryant. And it was Bryant who was with him now. Bryant who was offering him the touch of another human being. 

Suddenly, Hoffman realized how starved he was for the simple satisfaction of tactile gratification. How could Bryant be that perceptive of Hoffman’s need when he was generally so roughshod? Empathy was not one of Bryant’s talents.

True, Bryant had been drinking. It had been the odor of his body that had broken through Hoffman’s deep reverie of grief and self-pity. It was Bryant’s smell that had made Hoffman look up to see a ghostly presence looming over him.

Men sometimes got sentimental when they were drinking. Bryant, apparently, was one of them. And it appeared that Hoffman was going to be the recipient of Bryant’s sentiment. All he had to do was allow Bryant to try to alleviate some of his sorrow. Could that be so bad? Bryant’s heart, finally and at long last, was in the right place. He meant well. All Hoffman had to do was to be accepting of a simple act of charity. It seemed so natural. It might even help.

Bryant sensed a change in the other man. Bryant tried again. Hoffman allowed him to place his hand on his shoulder. 

Hoffman almost regretted the liberty because Bryant’s odor was quite pronounced the closer Bryant got. “You are drunk, Lieutenant. I can smell you.”

“Sorry. I met up with Collie and Manny. We had a few.”

Hoffman shifted. “A few dozen, you mean.” He had meant to be sarcastic, but he could tell that Bryant thought his remark was funny. 

Bryant’s self-conscious grin was lopsided. “Probably.” He wiped the grin off his face. “Now, can you tell me what is wrong with you?”

Hoffman considered whether it would do much good talking to a drunk. Captain Davis had given up once with Bryant, and he had been a strong man. 

On the other hand, Hoffman was indignant at Bryant’s behavior when he knew he had no right to be. Bryant owed him nothing.

Oh, yes, he did. Bryant had promised.

“You said you would be back.” Hoffman could hear the whining accusation in his own voice. He hated sounding like a fishwife, but he could not help it. He felt slighted. 

Bryant grinned, threw his arms out, and fought to keep his balance. “Here I am!” 

“I guess I thought you meant you would be right back.”

Bryant frowned. “Is that the trouble? Is that why you’re crying?” His frown deepened as he settled his hand on Hoffman‘s shoulder again. “I can make you cry by not showing up?”

“How could you? That would indicate that you mean something to me.“

“Don’t I?”

“According to your rules, Lieutenant, no.”

“How about according to your rules?”

Hoffman pulled more away. “I told you, I grieve for my family.”

“No. It’s more than that. I do mean something to you, and I disappointed you. I’m sorry.” He leaned closer. “I am so terribly sorry. I was a jerk.”

Hoffman closed his eyes against the smell and the words. He could almost believe him. But this was not the real Bryant talking, it was just the sentimental drunk.

“Here you were needing help,” Bryant was continuing, “and the one person you thought you could count on didn‘t keep his promise. I wasn‘t here when you first received the news about your family, and then tonight I was slow returning when I promised I‘d return.”

Slow? Hoffman wanted to ask, but he knew his voice would sound too bitter.

“I’m even the one responsible for your getting the letter, at all!”

Hoffman knew he had to correct that. Bryant had tried to do him a kindness. “Now, you mustn’t worry yourself about that. You were being very thoughtful.”

“I hope you realize my intentions were good.” Bryant’s voice sounded closer. 

“I do.” Despite the odor, which he was growing accustomed to, Hoffman liked knowing that Bryant was close to him. It helped ease the hurt inside. Hoffman realized that it was helping a lot to have Bryant touching him, too. It felt so good. In fact he wouldn’t push Bryant away if he came closer yet.

Even though Hoffman had pulled away from him at first, Bryant sensed that more contact would be welcomed now. He wanted to embrace Hoffman. By embracing the grieving man, he would give Hoffman the human contact that Bryant knew he was hungering for. 

Bryant wrapped his arms around Hoffman and pressed his chest firmly against Hoffman’s back in a hug. “I am so terribly sorry,” he said softly into Hoffman’s ear and closed his eyes. The contact was comforting to him, too.

“I know,” Hoffman whispered back in a choking voice. “It is that my family meant so much to me, and now they are destroyed.”

“I know.”

“I feel so helpless, so useless. I am a man. I am supposed to care for my family, not lie here in a puddle of weakness and inactivity.”

“You are still a good and caring man. These are overwhelming odds that you are up against. It would daunt anybody. But I am here now. I‘ll help you however I can.” He felt Hoffman twist away from him. “What’s wrong? Should I stop comforting you?”

“Nein, nein,” the German protested. “It is just that I am so, so--“

“Exposed? Open? Defenseless? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He settled his arms around Hoffman again. “Trust me. I want you to feel better.”

Hoffman relaxed and molded himself to the circle of Bryant‘s arms. “I should not give in to my sorrow. A man should not do that. A man should be strong and keep on fighting.”

“Sometimes we have to take a breather before we can do that. It doesn’t mean you are any less a man. Don’t be afraid of your grief. It’s not a weakness.“ He patted Hoffman’s arm, then stroked it. Hoffman relaxed under him. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Hans Deiter. I‘ll do anything for you. Anything. You are important to me,” he murmured in Hoffman’s ear. His hand rubbed Hans’s chest, then rested near his neck. 

Hoffman took the hand and laid it against his face wet with tears. “Thank Gott for you,” he murmured. “You are a good man.”

Bryant’s muscles tightened.

“What is wrong? Do you not believe that you are a good man?”

“I don’t trust it. People always want something from me when they say that.”

“But do you not see? You have already given me something. You are giving me companionship and comfort. You have let me be a part of your life since I met you.”

“I didn’t intend for that to happen, you know. I fought it.”

“I know. But still it happened.”

“We’ve had us some good times, Hans Deiter.”

“Ja. We have.”

“We’ve known some good people. The Captain was the best.”

“Ya, that he was.”

“He shouldn’t have died like that, you know? He and I went through some bad battles and lived to hash them all over again over a stein of beer or a bottle of wine. How could he have just stepped on a shell that wasn’t supposed to be there and blow himself out of our lives?”

Hoffman heard the catch in Bryant’s voice. He rotated in the circle of Bryant’s arms, turned on his back, and looked up at Bryant’s grieving face in the semi-shadows. 

“Have you cried for the Captain?” he asked softly.

Bryant shook his head. “There’s a shell around my grief that I can’t break.”

“I know. But it is more than a shell. It is also a prison keeping you inside. You need to crack it.”

Bryant frowned, and tears glistened in his eyes. 

“Cry now.”

Bryant got a wild, uncertain look on his face. More than anything, he seemed to be a little boy lost in his grief. He wanted relief, but he felt too naked. He turned away.

But Hoffman was persistent. “If I am allowed to have my grief and to express it, then so are you. Nobody will criticize you. Nobody will think you are any less a man. Trust me, Bryant. Let me do all the things for you that you offered to do for me.” He rubbed Bryant’s forearm. “Let me be a friend, too. You said you would do anything for me. Do this. Trust me enough to let me put my arms around you and comfort you. Let me protect you for once. It would mean so much to me if you would do that. That is what you can do for me. It is not something light. Surrendering all of your defenses to me will be difficult. But in giving up something, you will gain everything. You will at last have some peace.” 

Bryant turned back to Hoffman. His face was torn with anguish and he still seemed uncertain, but he so wanted to do what was being asked of him. His eyes were yearning for the promise of comfort. “I don’t usually let this much of myself go.”

“I know. It is difficult to do, I know. But look whose arms are around me. Do you think that I would ordinarily let a man hold me, even if I was grieving? But I have faith in you, and I want you to feel the same way about me. It will take a lot of faith for you to do this.” Hoffman pushed Alex’s arms aside and held his own arms up. “No one else will ever know. And what would they say? We have a great grief, you and I. They will be happy if we find comfort in each other. Come. Come to me. Let me help you.”

With a sigh Bryant settled against Hoffman’s chest, and Hoffman’s arms closed around him. Bryant sighed again. “This feels so good.”

“I am glad,” Hoffman murmured.

“I could never have done this with George Davis, and now I wish I had.” Bryant lifted his head toward Hoffman’s shadowy face. “There‘s nothing wrong with two guys expressing mutual concern or compassion to each other, is there?”

“Not a thing,” Hoffman reassured him as he rubbed Alex‘s back.

Bryant lowered his head. “I loved him so much. I never got a chance to tell him how much. I could only say it when I was drunk. I thought I had years to show him the depth of my affection. I thought I didn‘t have to say it. I thought he would just know. God, I miss him,” he whispered as he snuggled his face into Hoffman‘s neck.

“I know. He was your good friend. The pain of his passing will never go away, but someday it will not be as harsh as it is. Now it is so fresh that you can barely breathe. You think of something else for a moment, and then your thoughts are back on him. And you see him, or the lack of him, everywhere. The whole world haunts you.”

A shudder tore through Bryant’s body, and his breath caught. “Oh, Christ, yes!“ 

“Cry, my friend, cry, before it kills you if you do not.”

That tore down the last of Bryant’s defenses. Huge, wracking sobs were wrenched from him. At one point shame caught him and he would have bolted, but Hoffman held him fast. Bryant’s hands kneaded Hoffman’s tee shirt, and he wailed his misery in Hoffman‘s ear. But still Hoffman did not release him. And then Bryant didn‘t want to leave anymore. He clung to Hoffman. He had found his sanctuary.

Hoffman rubbed his hands over Bryant’s back. “Ja, ja, that is good. Grieve, my friend, grieve.” He pulled his blanket and sheet over Bryant. The night had grown chilly, and Hoffman wanted to protect Bryant from that, too.

 

When Bryant had cried himself into exhaustion, he lay crushed and not moving on Hoffman’s chest.

“Better?” Hoffman finally asked and stroked the hair out of Bryant‘s face.

“Yes. I feel numb. Empty. Hollow.” He raised his head. “Is that how you cried last night?” The morning light was just starting to seep into Hoffman’s quarters, and Bryant could see more of Hoffman‘s face.

“Ja, the first time last night.”

“The first time?”

“Before I ate supper.” Hoffman smiled. “The second time I wept, I was just plain feeling sorry for myself. You had promised to return.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The promise wasn’t the whole bad thing. I believed you.”

“I’m doubly sorry.” He studied Hoffman’s face. “How could I have done that to you?”

“Instead of how, you ought to asking yourself why. Or why it hurt me so much? It could only bother me so much because it was you who had done it.”

“It’s the thing I tried to keep from happening, but it has happened. And I am glad.” 

“So am I. Now, let me up so I can change this wet tee shirt. You must not have any liquid left in you. Then you need to go back to your own bed and rest. It is nearly morning. We both need to sleep.”

 

Bryant awoke to find himself under the covers of his own cot. He glanced across the room filling with early morning light to where Hoffman lay asleep. The other man’s gentle breathing filled that area as if he had been doing nothing else all night but sleep. Bryant frowned. Had it all been just a dream? But it had seemed so real.

On the other side of the room Hoffman, who had only been pretending the even breathing, listened as Bryant gradually quieted into sleep again.

It was better to pretend that tonight had never happened. Let Bryant think it was only a drunken dream. Hoffman would know the truth about their relationship and would rejoice in the knowing. He did not know if Bryant would be as happy about it.


	19. You Would've Made A Lousy Doctor

Hoffman was stirring the next morning when Bryant awoke. “Well, how did you sleep?“ he asked as he pulled on his uniform slacks and stood up.

The German looked dazed and frazzled at him as though he didn’t quite understand. “It was not a dream,” he mumbled and rubbed his eyes.

“Afraid not.” Bryant grinned, then grunted as he stretched and contorted himself.

“What is wrong?”

“I’m stiff and sore. I feel like I’ve been doing strenuous exercise, instead of sleeping. I guess I got used to the jail’s cot, after all,“ he said as he opened the door. 

“Lieutenant, wait.”

Bryant looked back.

“About the letter. I thank you for what you did. Your heart was in the right place. It was a wonderful gesture. I appreciate the thinking behind it.“ 

“I’m so sorry it contained bad news,” he repeated from the night before.

“You did not know,” Hoffman also repeated.. “And it would not have changed anything. At least now I know. I do not blame you. How could I? You were only trying to help. I thank you for that.“ 

Bryant nodded. “I’ll bring us back some breakfast. You go take a shower and get into some clean clothes. Then we’ll clean up this sty and air it out.”

After he left, Hoffman looked at his room. Bryant was right. This place was a sty. When had he allowed it to get into this state? He was normally a very clean person, and this place very honestly stank. But since he had heard about his daughter, he had not noticed his surroundings. How could he? He had been in shock and pain and had been too numb to move.

But now he had to do more than move. Lieutenant Bryant would be back in a few minutes with food. Did Hoffman want nourishment when he had barely eaten for days? Yes, he realized, he did. No matter how deep the pain, self preservation eventually makes a person rise up and resume living again. So it would be with him, too.

When Bryant returned, he found Hoffman scrubbed and in fresh clothes. The hot water had felt good on Hoffman’s skin and had eased his body’s aches and pains. He had enjoyed the simple pleasure of getting clean again and being appropriately dressed.

As he tasted the powdered eggs, he discovered that he was famished and quickly devoured the double serving that Bryant had brought to him.

“The cooks will be happy that at least one person loves their food,” Bryant said with a grin. “They generally hear a lot of static about its quality.”

Hoffman stared pointedly at a roll on Bryant’s plate.

“What the hell,” Bryant muttered. “I need to lose weight anyway. Here.” Bryant held the roll out.

“I will not take your food if you will go hungry.”

Bryant shook the roll at him. “Take it. You’re doing me a favor.”

Hoffman took the roll and started buttering it.

“Besides, I told the cooks that we might be back for brunch. They wanted to know what the hell that was.“ Bryant grinned. “They thought it was some kind of meat. One of them even told me that they didn’t have anything like that on the menu. Well, they will today, and for as many days as we want it. We’ve got to fill you out a little bit more. Your uniform is hanging on you.” Bryant gave him a critical look. “You‘ve lost your tummy since Christmas. You couldn‘t play Santa now without adding stuffing around your middle.”

Hoffman studied Bryant as he enthusiastically speared eggs onto his fork. This man across the small table from him was so unlike the Bryant who had laid down the no talking rules. It was amazing how much Bryant had changed . The old Bryant would’ve never taken such tender care of him. Then Hoffman furrowed his eyebrows. Oh, yes, he would have, but he would have blustered about it. 

“I appreciate what you are doing, Lieutenant. It means a great deal to me.”

Bryant waved the thanks away as he forked more eggs. “Nonsense. You’d do the same for--” He stopped with the folk halfway to his mouth.

The two men stared at each other.

Bryant returned his fork to his plate. “You’d do the same for me if the situation was reversed, Hans Deiter,” he finished. “I know you would.”

“Yes,” Hoffman vowed as he continued to stare at Bryant. “Yes, I would.”

No difference in political ideologies will ever keep people from treating each other humanely for very long.

 

They started to clean the room, but Hoffman had to rest often because he had so weakened himself by not eating or exercising. He picked up a book from the table and realized he had abandoned it midway in his reading. He had been enjoying it, then he learned about Lisl’s death. Now, the book belonged somewhere in the remote past.

“I have forgotten the story line, but I remember that I liked it,” he explained as he watched Bryant move the cot to sweep behind it. “That is an insult to a good book. I must make up for it by starting over. I do so enjoy the modern novel. The writing style is so improved over older works. But, of course, nobody could ever eclipse a Dickens or a Dumas or even your Mark Twain.”

Bryant glanced around the room. “Is this why you have all of books? Are you a scholar?”

“Yes. Well, I try to think of myself as one,“ he corrected himself in a self-deprecating manner. “I should not presume to be one now. I think it will take a lifetime of study for me to claim that label. But I plan to enjoy every book along the way and seek knowledge in as many areas as I can.”

“Do you teach literature?”

“Actually, foreign languages. But I could have gone into literature.“ He grew quite excited for Hoffman. “Or music. I love music and play several instruments. Any area in the fine arts would have appealed to me. But I finally decided on languages and let my other interests become hobbies.”

“You’re a strange one to be an officer with your sedentary background,” Bryant said as he shoved the cot back.

“My education is what got me my military ranking.” He smiled. “It wasn’t my physical ability or any love of warfare, I can assure you.”

“How did you manage to accumulate so many books so fast? You had none on you when you surrendered.”

“No, I didn’t, and I had been sorely missing any mental stimulation. Soldiers in the field cannot lug around books. That luxury comes from relatively peaceful areas where we are now. Captain Davis loaned a few to me and your chaplain located a couple of others. The Americans have been providing me with an array of their country’s authors. They have been very generous with their sharing. However, I have been looking for Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, but have been unable to find it.”

“I’ll loan you my copy.”

“You have a copy that you carry? That would be so heavy in your backpack.”

“It’s in a general collection that is kept in my quarters. The Quartermasters carry them around for us and complain about the weight. I argue that books are just as important as pots and pans, I loan the books out, and I will to you if you want.”

“You would? I would appreciate getting to read the Hemingway.”

“I’ll get it for you today. Right now, we have to go have some brunch and then we‘ll go on a little drive with Maninsky and Collins.”

Hoffman paled. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough yet to talk at a meeting with villagers.”

“That’s not what we’re going to do. This will just be a little outing in the fresh spring air. It’ll do everyone a world of good. We‘ll just look at the countryside.”

 

They enjoyed it so much that they did it the next day, and the day after. Captain Reardon assumed they were following their work orders and never questioned their comings and goings. They all enjoyed a few days respite before guilt and a sense that their luck was running out sent them back to their duties. But Maninsky and Collins never forgot their 1945 ‘European Spring Vacation’ and regaled their families and friends for years with the story.

 

When Bryant brought the Hemingway to Hoffman before supper that first evening, Hoffman had decided that he could stay by himself and that Bryant could take his cot back to his own quarters.

Bryant frowned. “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying.”

“I know.” Hoffman held up the Hemingway and smiled. “But now I will have a companion that does not snore. I can entertain myself royally.”

“Well, if you’re going to be critical--”

“I don’t mean to be. I awoke once in the night and lay listening to you for awhile. It felt good to have someone else in the room. I hadn’t realized that I had been missing that. I appreciated your companionship, even if it was noisy.”

“Well, stop acting like that book is your life, and let’s go eat.”

“Are you sure that I should eat with you?” Hoffman asked as he followed Bryant out the door.

“Yeah. I don’t think you’re ready yet for too much solitary confinement,” he said as they walked toward the mess tent. “Are you sure you don’t mind being by yourself tonight to sleep?”

Hoffman smiled. “You would make a lousy doctor, Lieutenant. You wouldn’t allow the patient to rest.”

Bryant opened the mess tent door. “I think you’ve had enough rest. Besides, it really wasn’t rest. You were in a coma with your eyes open.”

“And you brought me back to the land of the living. That’s the second time you’ve saved my life. How many more times are you planning on doing that?”

“As many times as it takes,” Bryant answered as he closed the door behind them. 

 

A couple of mornings later Bryant was working at his desk when Hoffman entered.

Bryant looked up. “Yes?”

Hoffman pulled himself up to his full military stature. “I am here to find out what I can do to help my country.”

Bryant tossed his pen aside. “Are you sure?”

Hoffman looked straight ahead.

“At ease, Colonel. Are you sure you’re up to doing anything?”

“That seems to be a favorite question of yours, Lieutenant.”

“And yours. I’m impressed that you‘re here. I know this has to be costing you a lot of effort.”

“Keeping busy is good therapy, too.”

“You’re right. We’ll start this afternoon.”

Hoffman nodded, and there was just the hint of a smile on his face. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Shall we count this as one of the times you‘ve saved me?”

Bryant smirked. “Let’s wait until it’s something really big.”

“It is to me, Lieutenant. It is to me.”

 

It was good to get back to their routine of visiting area towns and villages. Collins and Maninsky even seemed to be enjoying themselves. Bryant was surprised to discover that even he had missed their journeys in the surrounding areas. Everybody in the jeep seemed to be having a good time.

 

“I have brought back the Hemingway,” Hoffman said. “I thought I saw a Daphne du Maurier here the other day.”

“On the other side of the dictionary,” Bryant directed.

“Oh, yes, I see it. Hungry Hill. Have you read it yet?”

“No. I’ll get it when you finish.”

“What are you reading?”

“A biography of Lincoln.”

“There are many of those.”

“This is a smaller one than Sandburg’s.”

Hoffman’s eyes twinkled. “Almost anybody’s is.”

“Now, that’s a true statement if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Do you read much about your American civil war?”

“Not as much as the Revolutionary War. I like the Founding Fathers.”

“They were an exceptional group. The Colonies were fortunate to have them at such a crucial time. I doubt if there would be a United States now if it hadn’t been for the insight and influence of those men.”

“Amen to that.” He studied Hoffman. “You know an amazing amount about my country’s history, and I know hardly anything about yours.”

“A mistake that has caught America sleeping twice in this century, Lieutenant. Have you not heard the saying, Know thy enemy?”

Bryant got up from his desk. “Yeah, but we have a misguided isolationist policy. Sometimes we think what goes on in Europe and Asia doesn’t affect us. A lot of it goes back to the Monroe Doctrine and our attempt to keep our part of the world to ourselves. Come on, I’ll treat you to dinner at the mess tent.”

“You are very generous, Lieutenant,” Hoffman said as they crossed the compound, “especially since the meal is free.”

“Yeah, but it comes with a hell of a cover charge: a tour of duty in this man’s army, all expenses paid.”

They entered the tent and started through line.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Bryant continued, “the last of the big time spenders.” 

“Hey, Alex! Over here!” Maninsky yelled.

“Come on, there’s Manny and Collie,” Bryant said to Hoffman. Louder, he said as they approached their table, “Why do you think we’d want to sit with you? We see your ugly mugs all day.”

“Misery loves company,” Collie answered. “Why else would we ask you? Here, Colonel. Sit here. There’s room for everyone. Hey, Forrest! Slide your fat ass down! See, Colonel, plenty of room.”

“Thank you, Private Collins. My, it is noisy in here this evening.”

“Just a bunch of stir-crazy GIs letting off some steam. War is hell, but it beats sitting here on our hands. This police action stinks. We want to go home.”

“I can relate to what you are saying, Private.”

“I bet you can. Do you know yet what’s going to happen to you?”

Hoffman shrugged. “I think the four of us have had our life’s work chosen for us. We will be driving from village to village with our message forever.”

“That might not be too bad, as long as there’s an endless supply of pretty ladies to go along with it,” Maninsky said.

“Alas, gentlemen, all good things must come to an end,” Hoffman stated. “But may I say that I have had an interesting incarceration with you.”

“This feels like a farewell party,” Collie interjected. “Do you know if anything’s going to happen soon, Alex?”

“Nope, but I feel it, too. And it’s going to be good. Lady Luck tells me that we’re all going to come out fine.”

Maninsky raised his coffee mug. “Here’s to Bryant’s Lady Luck.”

“Hear! Hear!” Collins echoed and raised his mug, also.

But as always with Bryant’s Lady Luck, she was laughing. This time, she was laughing hysterically. The four guys at the table just didn’t know it yet.

 

Tomorrow might bring a reversal. Who knew for sure? But for now they had drawn together in companionship. They would let tomorrow take care of itself, because all that anybody really has is today.


	20. Lacerated Hearts

“I don’t understand, Captain Reardon,” Bryant said as he looked down at the man seated behind Davis‘s desk. To Bryant, it would always be George Davis‘s desk. “What do you mean that Maninsky and Collins are leaving?”

Reardon frowned. “Just that, Lieutenant. They’re being ordered back to Metz.”

“But they’re part of my team.”

“What team, Lieutenant? Your phase of the rehabilitation program is being shut down.“

“When did this happen? Why wasn’t I told?”

Reardon frowned. “Colonel Hoffman said nothing to you?”

“No.”

“Well, I guess he didn’t want you to know.”

“Know? Know what?”

“He’s being relieved. He’ll probably get to go home without repercussions. The Brass says he’s earned it.”

“That’s great for him, but why didn’t he say something about it to me?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Where does that leave me?”

“You and Hoffman have one more appearance to make in Heidelberg. Then you’ll go back to Metz and rejoin your group. You‘d be going with them right now, but it‘s important that you and Hoffman still appear together this one last time. You two became an important symbol together for the rehabilitation effort, but the program will be entering a new phase. You two were part of the advance group, but now the emphasis will change. ”

“Will Hoffman and I have an armed escort going with us to Heidelberg?”

“You don’t need one anymore. The war‘s over, Lieutenant.”

“You mean that he and I are going to Heidelberg alone?”

“That‘s right.”

“I hope you’re right, Captain. Because if you aren’t, you could have one dead German Colonel on your hands. How do you think that’ll look? It wouldn’t make very good publicity now, would it? The war might be over, but there‘s Germans who hate Hoffman. They think he‘s a traitor.”

“Then I suggest you take very good care of him, Lieutenant.”

“But--”

Reardon tossed his pencil on the desk. “Stop seeing danger where there is none. There’s not Nazis behind every tree anymore.”

“It’s not Nazis I’m worried about,” Bryant mumbled.

“You have your orders, Lieutenant.”

“But, sir--”

Reardon gave him a steely eye. “That will be all, Lieutenant!”

“Yes, sir,” Bryant mumbled, saluted, and left.

 

When Collins and Maninsky went by Hoffman’s quarters to say goodbye, they couldn’t find him. They told Bryant who shook their hands and shoved them on a convey truck headed for Metz with promises of seeing them soon. Then he went in search of Hoffman.

Bryant was one pissed off GI. First Reardon and now Hoffman had angered him. He might not be able to tell Reardon off, but Hoffman was another matter.

 

“What in the hell is going on with you?!” Bryant demanded as he burst into Hoffman’s quarters.

Startled, Hoffman looked up, then calmly placed a bookmark in the du Maurier novel he was reading and set it aside. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

“You’re damned right there’s a problem! For starters, Maninsky and Collins just left, and they’d wanted to say goodbye to you. But you, for some dumb ass reason, made yourself damned scarce. Mind telling me why?”

“I am not good at farewells, that is all.”

“Well, what about Maninsky and Collins?! They are all right guys who protected your sorry ass for weeks out in a pretty dangerous situation! They deserved your heartfelt thanks, but all they wanted was to say goodbye. And you denied them even that! You weren’t thinking of them or their feelings now, were you?! Just yourself!”

“They will recover, I am sure.“ Hoffman shrugged. “It is time for them to move on with their lives.”

“That’s what I understand. Everybody’s moving on! Even you! That’s a little something else you forgot to mention in passing, didn’t you? That you were headed home! You knew the night of the party, didn’t you, and didn’t say anything. Why not?!” 

“I thought it best not to say anything. I thought it would ruin the party.”

“Why? That was good news! We could’ve helped you celebrate! Look, you don’t kick dirt in people’s faces like that. It makes people feel bad, understand? It hurts their feelings. But if you didn’t want to include us, well, that’s alright with me!”

“That was not my intention. I hated to part with all of you.”

“That’s awfully hard to believe! I‘d think you‘d be happy to be rid of us.”

Hoffman bit his lips together, but did not say anything.

“Look, you and I are scheduled for one more meeting in Heidelberg, and then it’s over! You go your way and I’ll go mine! It can’t happen fast enough for me! In the meantime, if you want me out of your life so badly, I can accommodate you! I don’t want to be around you, either! I don’t want to see you! I don’t want to hear about you! I don‘t want to know that you even exist! If you want to be rid of us Americans so much, we sure as hell can make that happen! We didn‘t want to be here in the first place! We got our lives all screwed up, some of us forever!”

“At least you have lives to go back to where the land and people have not been so devastated by war. You will not have to rebuild as we will.”

“There’s going to be a lot of empty chairs around the dinner table. A lot of our young guys won’t be going home. And we’ll never forget who is responsible for that.”

Hoffman opened his mouth as if to say something, but Bryant held up his hand for silence.

“And I especially don’t want to hear anything else you have to say! So we’re back to the no talking rule! Just stay out of my way!” He slammed the door as he stormed out.

Hoffman stared at the door for several minutes. He removed his eyeglasses and set them on top of the book. His eyes looked weak and his face was featureless without the ever-present optical aids. Finally, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and then wiped his damp hand on his trouser leg.

If only Bryant could understood how difficult all of this was for him. Hoffman liked to think of himself as a gentle, polite person who was more at home in a library or in a classroom than at a party or on a battlefield. He hadn’t wanted this war; it had come to him. His comfortable, gracious, academic, intellectual life with his family had been cruelly ripped from him and could never be restored. Although he ached to be with his wife and shield her from the world once more, he feared she was beyond even his help. He had no idea what trials she and his sister were enduring on a daily basis. Although he tried hard not to envision their lives, brutal images manifested themselves to him in his imagination.

Hitler’s plan for a new world order was to cleanse society so that mankind could make great strides forward. The great backlash and suffering of the German people had not been part of the agenda, hopefully. Hoffman saw only trials and lean years in his future. What person would willingly want to subject himself to that?

For that way of thinking, he felt like a coward. His family needed him. Yet, here he was with the Americans wishing he could stay with them forever. But they wanted to get back to their families and a future that was going to be certainly brighter than his.

Part of him had not wanted to say goodbye to Maninsky and Collins because he would miss them. He had enjoyed the two soldiers who had treated him humanely and offered him friendship. Americans had such a familiarity about them that made anyone feel immediately at ease with them. It was fun to be around them.

But another part of him did not want to give up this interlude of irresponsibility for the bleakness of the days ahead that he knew he must face. If he could only return to his old world of schoolrooms and libraries and musical evenings with his friends. If only his fragile parents were still living and caring for his sister who must’ve had to grow up too quickly while he was gone in military service. If only he could take his excited daughter to the park once more and walk through the grass carrying a picnic basket in one hand while his sweet wife clung to his other arm and looked up at him with adoring eyes. If only he could make gentle love to his wife and sleep in her arms with their gentle world once more sheltered them.

If only this damned war had never happened!

But it had, and now the German people had to pay for dreaming too big. Hitler, the architect of the dream, was out of the picture by suicide in the closing hours of the war. He would never suffer the way his people, his original followers, would. His name would go down in history for influencing mankind, no matter how adverse that influence had been. His followers would just go down, pounded into the dirt in the name of rehabilitation. Christians were not supposed to be vengeful, but Hoffman could smell the faint whiffs of revenge on the victors. He could read it in their faces. He could not blame them, really. It would be difficult to live with victory and not flaunt the smugness of success in the faces of the vanquished.

Hoffman rubbed his burning eyes, put his glasses back on, and stared off into space. His not wanting to leave the friendly Americans and going home to face a challenging future was one thing, but there was something that was breaking Hoffman‘s heart more. There was the matter of being permanently separated from Bryant whom he had grown to love. And he had thought that Bryant had grown to love him. 

Hoffman had rarely been drawn to a person so quickly as he had to Bryant, and he couldn’t understand why. Hoffman believed in gentleness and order in the world while Bryant seemed roughshod and a mass of contradictions. But Hoffman felt there was more to Bryant than was apparent. Fiercely loyal and dedicated, Bryant tried to act as if he didn’t care about other people, but he really did. He seemed unsettled, as though he had a gypsy background. The only family Bryant seemed to have was a borrowed one. He had many good qualities, but Hoffman wondered if other people could see them before Bryant could. Maybe Bryant simply did not realize that he was a good person.

But what Hoffman appreciated most about Bryant, outside of being his rescuer, was his intelligence and scholarship. The man prescribed to knowledge as a natural course instead of as a means to an end. He loved learning for itself. This kind of man could offer insights that could pique Hoffman’s intellect and stimulate his own learning. This kind of man might offer insights that would amaze Hoffman. Hoffman would like to know this kind of man better. This kind of man could take a lifetime to know. 

But this man did not want to know Hoffman anymore. 

Hoffman sighed. He picked up the book and tried reading it, but set it aside and stared into space again. Bryant would soon be out of his life, and nothing would change that fact. The man who did not want to be his friend, but nonetheless was, would go on without him. No matter how much Hoffman would wish it otherwise, nothing else would ever come of their relationship. It was over.

Finally, he returned to his reading. He decided that it was his only solace.

 

When he settled down, Bryant realized he’d let anger do his talking, and he felt sheepish. Hoffman was probably trying to save everyone an emotional scene so he had skipped the farewells with Maninsky and Collins. It made sense. Wasn’t that what Bryant had always been trying to do?

Bryant knew he should apologize and be congenial with Hoffman again. It’d make both of them feel better, and their last days together would be easier. 

Bryant frowned. Or would it? Maybe Hoffman had the right idea.

Maybe a compromise would work. Bryant should just be civil, but distant with Hoffman. That had been the original plan, and it still made sense.

 

The plan worked, of course, until they were together again.

Hoffman entered Bryant’s office and held the du Maurier book up so Bryant could see it.

“Finish it?” Bryant asked in a noncommittal voice. “Well, you know where you got it.” He looked back down at the paper he was working on. 

Hoffman returned the book to its place on the shelf and lingered over the other titles a moment longer than he should have.

“See anything else you’d like to read?”

Hoffman started to shake his head, then his eyes went back to the shelf. He picked up a book and showed it to Bryant. It was The Human Comedy by William Saroyan.

“That’s a good book. Do you want to borrow it?”

Hoffman touched his chest and raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, you may borrow it.”

Hoffman nodded his thanks, lowered his eyes, and headed for the door.

“Hold it. Aren’t you going to thank me?”

Hoffman looked back in confusion. He thought he had with the courteous nod. How else could he thank Bryant without speaking?

Bryant tossed aside his pencil and stood up. “I want a thank you from you.”

Hoffman gave the book a longing look, then set it down on a table.

“Can’t you just say thank you?”

Hoffman looked down and turned for the door. How could he obey both of Bryant’s requests? The American was being unreasonable and trying to lure him into a fight.

But Bryant relented. “Oh, take the damned book. I don’t want to keep you from reading. It‘s one of the few pleasures we have around here,” he mumbled.

Hoffman picked up the book and scurried out.

Bryant felt like an ass. Why had he baited Hoffman?

He wondered what Hoffman thought of the du Maurier book. Bryant missed the discussion they would have had about its merits. Perhaps they could have critiqued it over coffee at the mess tent. Perhaps they could have toasted the author at the local pub. Perhaps they could have each learned from the other’s insights.

Bryant frowned. Damned his rules! How could he back down from them and be friendly again with Hoffman? Damn the rules! He missed the German.

 

Silence hung over the jeep like an enveloping shroud as the two men rode through the afternoon and approached Heidelberg. As always, Bryant and Hoffman were sitting side by side in the front of the jeep, but this time they were alone and very aware of the empty seats behind them. They both would’ve welcomed Collins and Maninsky’s inane chattering on this trip, but they were on their own and not handling the situation very well. Bryant had decided not to speak, either, and was communicating with Hoffman by gestures. Hoffman, for his part, moved stiffly and stared ahead. He didn’t even bother with gestures. When he did glance at Bryant, he stared through him as if Bryant was blocking his view. If he did show any interest in Bryant, it was as if he were trying dispassionately to identify some strange alien form that had suddenly been thrust into his area of existence.

Great, Bryant thought, this is going to be one hell of a long ride. It’s my own damned fault, but he started it. This is insane, he tried to tell himself. When we should be saying our goodbyes, we’re acting like a couple of children trying to place blame with the other person. Well, if he can keep it up, so can I. I’m not German for nothing!

Neither was Hoffman. He yearned for the easy companionship that he and Bryant had established together. He longed to tell Bryant that he would never be forgotten and would be remembered by one person who thought he had been a good friend. He wanted to hear that he was as important to Bryant as Bryant was to him. But Hoffman could see it from the corner of his eye that Bryant’s mouth was set in stubbornness. There would be no tender words of friendship between them that day. There would be no special words of farewell when they parted.

So the two stubborn men traveled through the afternoon toward Heidelberg, both wishing the other would break the silence and speak. But they knew if they did, only angry words would be spoken. 

So they held their tongues and kept their pride. And lacerated their hearts.

 

They were only part of a large program that was to be held at the Thingstaate, Heidelberg’s huge outdoor auditorium that had been built originally for fascist rallies in the nineteen thirties. To get to it, Bryant drove past the Efrenfriedhof, a large national cemetery which contained many Wahrmacht soldiers killed in the Second World War. It was located on the south end of the old town while the Thingstaate was on the north. As he drove through the old town, Bryant ducked his head to look at the ruined Heidelberg Castle sitting atop the Konigstuhl Hill. What a pile that must have been in its day! And now it lay in ruins, much as present day Germany was.

Heidelberg had been spared bombing attacks by the Allied Forces since it was not industrialized and the Allies wanted to use it for their own military installations after the war. The only heavy damage the city suffered was when the Germans evacuated. They destroyed bridges, some of them historic, over the Neckar River.

 

As Bryant pulled the jeep over and parked it, he noticed the milling crowds that had already gathered. American military personnel were there since the city now contained an American military installation, but it was soldiers that Bryant didn’t know. A lot of German civilians were there, too, he noticed. A lot.

Damn that Reardon and his plans! Bryant hoped that Reardon had provided plenty of security.

Bryant signaled Hoffman and they walked toward the auditorium.


	21. The Linden Trees of Berlin

Bryant didn’t like the looks of the set-up inside the Thingstaate, either. The auditorium was all so big and open. He wished for the hundredth time that Maninsky and Collins were with him. Hell, at this point, he’d settle for Reardon. Bryant didn’t like Reardon, but he bet the Captain could fight like an incensed bulldog if backed into a corner. The little bastard looked like a scrapper, and that‘s what Bryant was needing. And Bryant would welcome anyone on his side right now. He had a bad feeling about this situation. It just didn’t feel right, like Hitler could walk out on the stage at any moment to incite his glorious followers once more. It had that hollow feel about it.

Just before they went onstage, Bryant broke his rule of silence, grabbed Hoffman by the arm, and pulled him roughly aside. “Listen, watch yourself out there,” he warned as his eyes searched the crowd. “There‘s a hell of a lot of people here today. I don‘t like it. There could be a gun anywhere. Guards can‘t be everywhere, and who knows if we can trust the guards? A lot of them are surely German, too.” He stopped looking around and stared intently at Hoffman. He knew that his concern clearly showed on his face. “Be careful, okay?” 

They stared at each other as they heard their names announced.

“That’s us,“ Hoffman muttered and pulled his arm away. “We better go.”

“Wait. I’m just saying that there could be trouble, okay?” Bryant warned.

Hoffman visibly straightened into the proud soldier serving his country that he still was and looked levelly at Bryant. “Then you better stay well behind me, Lieutenant.” He looked at Bryant with what he hoped was stoic resignation.

But Bryant saw the underlying mixture of anxiety, regret, and sadness that Hoffman could not hide. He hoped that his own eyes weren‘t showing the same things, but he had a hunch that they were. 

Hoffman’s eyes said that the only thing he really wanted was that things were better between them. He was more concerned about that than a potential gunman who might threaten to end his life. But Hoffman still had his pride. He didn’t want to be the first to admit he’d been acting foolishly when he knew he hadn’t. If Bryant could set the rules, then he could most certainly play by them. But Hoffman’s eyes also showed that he didn’t know if he had the heart to play the charade out, though.

With an effort, Hoffman tried to imbue some steely flint in his traitorous eyes. “You be careful yourself. We wouldn’t want the wrong person to get shot out there now, would we, Lieutenant?” He intended the remark to sound harsh and sarcastic, but it just sounded sad.

Bryant regretted everything bad that had recently passed between them. He wanted things to be better between them, too. He frowned and opened his mouth to say something along those lines, but Hoffman saw his intent and turned away. 

“It is too late, Bryant. It is over for us,” Hoffman mumbled. “Auf Wiedersehen.” He stepped forward.

Damn that German and his fatalism! Bryant thought as he followed Hoffman onstage. He’s expecting trouble! Now’s a hell of a time to tell me goodbye. Is it because he thinks he won’t be living very much longer?!

Bryant tried to smile and show enthusiasm as he gave a few introductory remarks, but he knew he sounded distracted. He was. His eyes were constantly scanning the vast crowd. He hoped he was making sense and that the routine of many weeks would put the right words in his mouth.

At last he introduced Hoffman and stepped back so the German could talk to his countrymen and offer them some sort of hope.

Bryant marveled that Hoffman could speak at all. His own mind was roaring with fear and trepidation. Hoffman’s voice droned on with words now familiar to Bryant, but his delivery seemed mechanical. Then Bryant noticed the stiffness in Hoffman’s body and could only guess at the strain the German felt. Alex now knew how he himself had appeared to the audience.

Bryant was standing slightly behind Hoffman and to his left. He thought he was watching the crowd closely, but when he saw the Lugar pointed in Hoffman‘s direction, it took a moment for its reality to register. 

“Look out!” Bryant yelled and lunged at Hoffman to shove him aside. 

The pistol fired as Bryant collided with Hoffman who staggered and automatically grabbed him. Something hard slammed into Bryant’s back near his left shoulder blade, and he grunted in surprise as he stared in disbelief at Hoffman who stared back. He’d been shot! Then his face lost all expression as his body reacted to the invasion. Hoffman’s horrified face loomed before him, then Bryant felt his knees buckle and his body began to crumble. Bryant reached out for Hoffman and grabbed onto the only reality that was anchoring him in this life.

“Nein!” Hoffman yelled. “Nein! Nein, Gott! Nein! Not him! Not him!” He wrapped his arms around Bryant and fell with him to the stage. He trembled as he pulled Bryant closer against his own body and started to rock him.

Noise erupted as people rushed onstage to help, and a scuffle out in the audience told that the shooter had been subdued.

Bryant drifted in and out of consciousness. He was aware of lying sprawled on the floor with his body held tightly against rough wool and of grasping the collar of someone‘s coat. His left shoulder was on fire. 

Someone yelled his name, and he recognized Hoffman’s voice. He became aware of his own hand brushing Hoffman‘s cheek in solicitude. He was trying to soothe Hoffman whose face was a mask of grief. “…’s alright,” he mumbled. “…not fault.”

He pulled back and frowned up at the blood on Hoffman’s anxious face twisted in worry above him. Bryant wondered if he’d been shot, too. Then Bryant closed his eyes because he was feeling so tired, leaned toward Hoffman, and snuggled the right side of his face against Hoffman‘s chest. “…sleep,” he mumbled, but it sounded more like a moan, even to his own ears.

Just as he drifted off, he heard someone singing in his left ear about the linden trees of Berlin. The words were set to the tune of The Carnival of Venice and were very comforting. What a wonderful thing to hear! He wanted to float on the lilt of those soothing words forever. He could float up to Heaven on them where Mama was waiting.

Bryant thought it was Hans Deiter singing. But that was crazy, he thought. Hans Deiter didn’t sing.

And then Bryant remembered that he did.

He thought back to the time when Hoffman had needed a woodland latrine and had been requested to sing. The episode had been filled with ribald humor and the lusty joy of being together. They’d had an innocence that day that they were unaware of, but it was lost all too soon when Captain Davis and Lisl Hoffman had died.

But they had the memory of that day. Bryant wanted to remind Hoffman of something good they had shared. And, even though pain was coursing through him, he could not resist an opportunity to tease. Hoffman might feel better if he laughed.

Bryant pulled away from the rough wool of Hoffman’s uniform. 

“Lousy…singer….” he mumbled and tried to grin. As he struggled to look up, the effort caused him fresh pain. He grimaced and with a whimper burrowed his face into that rough wool again as the arms holding him tightened. This was his friend, his only refuge from the pain. Bryant was so tired. He wanted to stay forever in these arms that loved him, for he knew now that Hoffman did. Hoffman’s haunted face had told Bryant everything Hoffman’s pride how tried to hide about his true feelings. Why had Bryant been such a fool to deny himself the friendship of this wonderful person? The two of them could solve anything, be it the problems of a country trying to heal itself or the differences between two men, if they only worked on it together. When had they lost track of that lesson? Why had they stopped being friendly to each other?

Then that familiar voice was back, murmuring something in his left ear that he couldn’t quite understand. Then he heard the words clearly. Someone was calling him ‘mein freund.’ My friend. 

Once again, it sounded like Hans Deiter.

“Do not leave me, my friend,” the voice said. “Live for me, if not for yourself. I can see in your eyes that you do not mind if you die now, but please do not. I cannot live if you die because of me. I wish it had been me who was shot. Why was it you? Why are you always saving me? Oh, please live, my friend.”

Bryant knew he had to focus on that voice. It was his only connection to the outside world. And he knew it was important to repeat the word back. He had to do something to take that look of terrible anguish off Hoffman‘s face. He had to let Hoffman know that he didn’t blame him. “Freund,” he tried to mumble, but his mouth wasn‘t working too well. The word came out as a low moan.

Then hands were pulling him out of Hoffman’s comforting arms and lifting him. He groaned in pain and protest. He wanted the protecting, loving arms back. He wanted Hoffman back.

Then there was nothing.

 

His world centered on pain and rough handling. Alex knew that people were trying to be gentle with him and minister to him, but they didn’t realize that more than his back and shoulder were aching. He hurt inside where they couldn’t doctor. They couldn‘t heal his lacerated heart. 

He’d made a terrible mistake with Hoffman, and he wanted to correct it, but knew he couldn‘t. Now that it was too late, he wanted to admit the truth. Hoffman had confessed his true feelings for him, and Bryant wanted to tell Hoffman that he thought of him as a friend, too. Bryant wanted to tell him how much he really loved him.

But Bryant was trapped in an alien world that didn’t make sense anymore, and it exhausted him to fight against it. He asked for more drugs and went back to sleep. If being awake caused this much pain, he wanted to live in a drugged sleep forever.

 

Bryant finally awoke with a clear head in a strange hospital room. Collins was standing by his bedside.

“Collie! Christ, it’s good to see you! I thought the whole world had gone crazy.”

“Yeah, I can imagine it seemed that way to you.” Collie answered with a grin. “I hear you’ve been liking your medication.”

“Where am I now? I think I‘ve been moved around a lot.”

“You have. This is an army hospital near Paris.”

“Just my luck. Near Paris and laid up.”

“I could have a little mademoiselle come visit you. I‘m sure some of them make house calls. She‘d make sure you got laid instead of just laid up.”

“I don‘t think I could rise to the occasion, if you know what I mean.”

Collins shook his head and grinned. “Same old Alex. Manny wanted me to tell you ’Hi.’ He tried to see you, but you were off on one of your little mental trips. You did a lot of rambling about Hoffman.”

“I was worried about him. How is he? Did he get shot, too? He had blood all over him the last time I saw him.“

“That was your blood, buddy. He wasn’t hurt much. You deflected the bullet, and he got only a scratch compared to you. He spent some time in a hospital, and then I think he got to go home.“

“That’s good. He was needed there.“

“That was quite a picture of Hoffman holding onto you after you were shot. The story of your saving him made all the papers. The clippings have been saved for you.”

“Great.”

“Hoffman didn’t want to let you go. He kept saying that you’d die if he turned you loose. Somebody finally told him that you’d die if he didn’t turn you loose. You were bleeding out like a stuck hog, and Hoffman was awash in your gore. He was set to protect you, though, whatever it took. That made quite a newspaper story, too. You know, former enemy protects fallen former enemy after taking bullet for first former enemy.”

“Well, Reardon should be happy. That‘s just the kind of publicity he wanted. The two ex-enemies trying to protect each other. Hoffman and I sure went out in a blaze of glory, didn‘t we?” He frowned. “I wonder if Reardon arranged the shooting? I wouldn’t put it past the little bastard.”

Collins frowned. “Don’t be so hard on him, Alex. He’s an alright guy.“

Bryant looked amazed. “You’re singing his praises now? What happened?”

“Reardon took the shooting pretty hard. He said you’d warned him there could be trouble, and he feels bad that you got hurt. He feels like it‘s his fault. Those flowers on your table are from him. He’s tried visiting you, too, with no luck. You’ve got some of his blood in your veins right now, too. You needed transfusions and he had the same blood type. He gave you a pint. So did I.“

“Thanks.“ He thought a moment. “Maybe I had him figured wrong.”

“We all did. His main problem was that he tried to fill Davis’s shoes, and nobody could’ve done that. I guess we should‘ve helped him a little more with that, huh?”

“I’ll have to write him a note and let him off the hook.”

“He’d appreciate it, but just knowing you‘re better will fix him right up. He’s learned a hell of a hard lesson, but he’ll be a better person and officer because of it.”

“Who was the shooter then?”

“A German who thought Hoffman was a traitor. Turns out he was one of Hoffman’s own men. He goes to trial next week.”

“I don’t want him punished.“

“But, Alex, he shot you.“

“He was frustrated. I can almost understand his thinking. His country had been defeated, and then his commander had turned traitor in his eyes. He couldn’t see that his commander was braver than the rest and was trying to help his country.” Alex frowned. “And the misery goes on. I wonder if there’ll ever be any normal life for these poor folks over here?”

“To quote Reardon, the rehabilitation of Germany is entering a new phase. Personally, I feel like a janitor. This mopping up is almost worse than the war. I‘m not cut out to be an ambassador. I don‘t know how you did it.”

“Actually, Hoffman did it. I just tagged along.”

“Don‘t sell yourself short, Alex. Not everybody could‘ve done what you did.”

Alex grinned and he hadn’t done that in a long time, either, and meant it. “Not everybody had a Kraut boy surrender to him. Hoffman doing that just fell into the laps of the Brass. They were needing German spokesmen to be a liaison between us and the German civilians, and one of them simply walked up to me, threw down his gun, and raised his hands. I didn’t know if he was scared of dying or tired and hungry, but I’ve decided since that he just wanted it to be over. No, Collie, all I did was bring in a guy who’d surrendered to me. Somebody else took care of the rest.“ He grew thoughtful. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think he was sent to us to get things over. And I think I was there to help him. The Brass might’ve been using us as a symbol and an instrument, but I think the idea didn’t originate with them. I think it came from someplace higher up. Higher up than Eisenhower, even.“

Collins frowned. “I hope you haven’t said any of this to your doctors.“

“I have, but they understand about battlefield religion. I don’t know if it’s that or superstition, but I know it’s as close to the Almighty as I want to get for awhile. Anyway, between my theories and this wound, it’s won me a ticket home. They’re sending me Stateside as soon as I can travel.”

"That’s what I heard.”

“I understand that a lot of the guys have already left, like Manny.”

“That’s right. I’ll be leaving soon myself. I just wanted to come by and see how you were getting along.“

“I appreciate it.“

“Listen, look me up sometime, will you? I’ll leave my address. If you don’t have any other prospects, maybe I could get you a job in my old man’s factory in Pittsburgh.” 

“I just might just do that, Collie.”

“Dad is always looking for a hard working guy, and I can sure as hell vouch for you. You‘re the best, Alex. I‘m glad we went through this together.”

“Thanks. Me, too. I couldn’t have done it without you and Manny. We’ll always be brothers.”

“That’s the same way I feel about you two. I’ll be looking for you. Now, I better get out of here and let you rest.”

“See you stateside, Collie.”

But Bryant wasn’t much for keeping track of people. He hadn’t been brought up that way. Somehow, he managed to lose Collie’s address before he left France. He could’ve traced Collins through the Army, but he never did. That part of his life was over. Although he sometimes thought of people he’d known in Europe, he considered that door closed. 

That was what his mama had always said, hadn’t she? No looking back, no regrets. It seemed like a damn good philosophy to Alex.

 

Back in Trenton, Maw fussed over him and made him feel at home. She knew he needed a long time to heal, both inside and out. She said he was all torn up inside, and she was just happy to have him home. He relaxed with a sigh after she said that and finally accepted that he was going to make it.

He laid around the house for days and finally felt strong enough to go through his gear that had been forwarded to him from Germany. At the bottom of the pack was a book. Bryant turned it over and saw that it was The Human Comedy by William Saroyan. Hoffman must’ve slipped it into Bryant’s belongings before the two men had left for Heidelberg.

Alex leafed through the pages and a piece of paper fell out. He picked it up and recognized Hoffman’s handwriting.

‘Danka,’ he began to read and then stopped. A lump formed in his throat and his eyes suddenly burned because Hoffman had written more. It was a note of farewell. Bryant blinked away the stinking in his eyes until he could read clearly again.

‘Danka, mein freund. Auf Wiedersehen.’ Hoffman had written. 

Bryant blinked hard again and automatically translated the German.

Thank you, my friend. Goodbye.

Hoffman had written what he thought Alex would’ve never allowed him to say to him. What kind of person denies another person the right to say a heartfelt goodbye?

Hoffman had been the better person, after all. And now he would never know that Bryant thought so, too. Or that Bryant would miss him.

Alex lowered his head and grieved for an irretrievable friendship lost forever.

Shutting this door behind him hurt. It hurt like hell.

 


	22. All Torn Up Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is the start of Part IV. PERHAPS THE PAST SHOULD HAVE JUST STAYED BURIED

The joy of greeting Maninsky at Heathrow Airport in London and the immediate feeling of familiarity telescoped the years since they’d last seen each other. It was like yesterday since they’d last seen each other, if they didn’t look too closely at how much each other had aged. They wrapped their arms around each other and stood clutching one another for a long time without saying a word. Alex had never realized the meeting would affect himself so much. He couldn’t seem to let go of Manny.

Finally, they did manage to break their holds and stepped back, half-embarrassed.

Manny looked up at him with misty eyes. “God, I’m glad you‘re here.”

Bryant knew it was his turn to say something, and he searched for something, anything, to say that would fill the awkward void. “Where’s Collie?” he asked finally with a small grin as he glanced around the terminal for his other buddy. “I figured both of you idiots would be here to greet me. Or is he coming in on a later flight?”

“He won’t be, ah, going with us, Alex. He can‘t make it,” Manny mumbled as he tried hard to keep his voice steady. “He‘s, ah,” he started, then frowned, “dead.” 

It was a cannonball to the midsection, and Bryant couldn’t breathe. 

Manny had said the final word as if it had to follow a twisted path out of his mouth and had to be wrung out of him. A moment passed before he could continue as Bryant stared at him, stunned. “It happened a couple of years back. His wife said it was a heart attack. It came out of nowhere, like the finger of God.” He looked up at the ceiling and drew in his breath. “She said he didn’t suffer. He didn‘t know what hit him.” His voice cracked on the last word.

Manny looked terrible, but Bryant knew if he so much as touched Manny they would both be lost to their grief.

“Bad loss,” Bryant mumbled. “He was a good man and a good friend.”

Manny nodded his head and refused to look at Alex. “I should’ve stayed in contact with him over the years,“ he mumbled. 

“We all should have. But he had a good life, Manny. It sounds like he had a good, loyal woman with him.”

Maninsky nodded in agreement. Finally, he raised his head, but he could barely speak. “Let’s go get your luggage and then we’ll go meet up with the other guys.” With an effort, he managed to bluster, “You have no idea how much they’ve aged.”

“Unlike us, I’m sure,” Bryant said with a slight grin.

Manny‘s grin was genuine. “I‘m sure.”

They wound their way through the huge terminal, but it seemed like a third, unseen but shadowy form walked with them and delighted in their reunion. Collie had made it, after all. The three of them were together again, and that‘s all that mattered.

 

They visited Omaha Beach on the coast of Normandy and its adjoining American cemetery that was just the first where buddies lay. So many towns and so many cemeteries passed by their motor coach‘s windows. Nothing looked familiar. Gone were the bombed out buildings and the fields destroyed by artillery. Harmony had been restored in France, and Alex was happy for that. A small part of him was sad, though, because that world that he had known, however horrendous, was lost forever, except to his memory. 

 

He looked for each man’s marker and tried to remember the person lying beneath it. From J.C. Fox, a shy PFC barely into his twenties from a small town in northwest Missouri to commanding officers, Alex honored each one as best he could. Some faces he could, barely picture and some names he couldn’t place at all, but each had served with him. And each had fallen so that Alex could live the rest of his life in freedom. 

But there was one grave that he knew would draw his greatest attention of all, and he found it in northeast France in a setting that was disarmingly beautiful.

 

Alex stood for a long time looking down at George Davis’s marker. A soft breeze gently tossed his thinning hair over a wrinkling forehead, and birds sang their joy over a successful hatch in a nearby tree. But all was silence near Alex. He frowned and tried to accept again that Davis was here, would always be here, would never be anywhere else ever again, but here.

“Shit, George, why did it happen?” he finally asked. “I’ve missed you like hell for over twenty-five years, and it’s never been the same without you. Sometimes I forget for awhile and sometimes it’s just a gentle ache, but it’ll always be there. I guess you’re happy that Ellie’s with you again. She came to you earlier than any of us expected, but no wonder. You broke her heart by dying, did you know that, you big bastard? You broke a lot of people’s hearts. You broke mine.” He frowned. “Did you ever realize you could bruise someone’s insides and never lift a finger?” he asked softly. “Did you know that you could hurt someone so badly that they’d never get over it? Well, that‘s what you did. Now I know what it’s like to have someone say goodbye and never return. You taught me about the emptiness that’s left behind. I’ve done that to so many people, and I’m just now starting to realize that I hurt them the same way you hurt me. I had a choice, though, and you didn’t. You didn’t plan to detonate that unexploded shell that day outside of Metz and blow yourself into Glory. You didn’t plan to leave the misery that you did. And neither did Collie. He’s with you now and I’m grieving over his loss, too. I’ve left a lot of people hurting behind me in the past, but maybe I can make it up to some of them somehow. They say you can’t go home again, but I’m going to try.”

Maninsky walked up. “The bus is getting ready to leave.” He looked down at the grave. “Captain Davis. Damned,” he said reverently. “That’s why you’ve been over here so long.”

“Yeah,” Alex said softly.

“What a guy,” Maninsky said more to himself than to Alex. Then he glanced Alex. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s alright. He’s happy to see both of us.” Alex smiled. “And now it’s okay. I know he’s not alone. He’s got buddies all around him.”

“Yeah, we got one here and one back in Pennsylvania. And there’s the fifth one we don’t know about.”

Alex frowned. “The fifth?” His brow cleared. “Oh, you mean Hoffman.”

“I mean Hoffman. Despite all of your conniving, he was still a part of us.“

“I know.”

Manny clapped Alex’s shoulder. “Come on, we better be leaving.”

Alex paused to glance back once more at Davis’s monument. “They all look alike, Manny. Take a quick glance and it’s like seeing rows of corn in a line. There aren’t any individuals here.” He looked back at Maninsky with a sad smile of acceptance. “And that’s okay, too.”

 

Later, back at their hotel, Alex was visiting with Manny while they dressed for dinner. “So you went home after the war and married your high school sweetheart, huh?”

“Yeah, I was lucky,” Manny answered as he looked in the mirror and straightened his tie. “She waited for me. And she made a home for us and supported us with her secretarial job while I went back to school on the G.I. Bill.”

“That’s what I did, too! Except I didn’t have a wife supporting me. I did odd jobs and my foster mother kept me. But I did go to school on the G.I. Bill. That was a great thing. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have done as well as I did in the workplace. Of course, it doesn’t hurt to marry the boss’s daughter.”

Manny grinned. “You can love a rich woman as easily as a poor one, I‘m told.”

“Well, I don’t know if it was exactly love that held us together, but we were just exactly what each other needed. Neither one of us was like the normal run of people, so our marriage was perfect for both of us.”

Manny frowned. “Was? Is she gone?”

“Yes, I am a widower.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We had what we had, and then it was over.”

Manny smiled. “No regrets? No looking back?”

“You’ve heard me say that before?”

“Your mother’s quote? Of course, I have. I think you said it in connection to that young French woman you knew in the service while we were stationed at Metz.”

“Michelle? Yeah, I probably did.”

Manny frowned. “Wait a minute. I thought you said that you had a daughter back in the States and that she was living with her mother, your wife.”

“She is.”

“But--”  
“My first wife, the one I was married to for many years, was not the mother of my daughter. Winifred couldn’t have children.”

“But--”

“I had a daughter out of wedlock, and Sandra, her mother, was my mistress for many years. When Winifred died, I married Sandra. But too much familiarity ruined our relationship, I guess, and we recently divorced.”

“Boy, you are one for the books!”

“Yeah, but sometimes I envy someone like you. You’re so normal.”

“Don’t make it sound so bland. It’s not a disease, you know.”

“But I do envy you, Manny, and for more than one reason. You seem to have a handle on life that I don’t remember you had when I knew you during the War.”

“I finally grew up, I guess.”

“No, there’s something else. It’s like you have an inner core of peace about you, as if you are tuned into some great secret that I don’t know about.” Some sixth sense nagged at Alex, and he got a strange hunch about what might have caused the change in Manny. “I never did ask you what line of work you went into after the war. What did you finally settle on?”

Manny looked at him levelly. “I’m a Methodist minister, Alex.”

“Holy Christ! I knew it! That’s the difference I sensed in you and couldn’t put my finger on! A preacher. That’s great! And I bet you’ve been a good one.“

Manny looked sheepish, but proud. “I try.“

“Holy shit! A man of God! Who would’ve thought?!” Then Alex came to his senses. “I mean. Gee whiz. Why didn’t you say something, Manny? I would’ve been a little more careful with my language these last few weeks. And I would‘ve been more selective about some of the topics I brought into the conversation.”

“Just for those reasons, I didn‘t say anything. I wanted things to be as uncomplicated as possible between us. The years of separation were going to be hard enough to handle, or so I thought.” He smiled warmly. “But that didn’t seem to be a problem at all. It was like the years hadn‘t happened, at all.” He studied Alex a moment. “Do you know why I chose the ministry?”

Alex grinned. “Well, I was curious, but I didn’t want to ask. Things like that are generally a private matter.”

“It was, and it wasn’t. I didn‘t get the call the way some people do. I didn‘t wake up one night and see it written all over the walls.” He grinned, then grew thoughtful. After a few moments, he spoke in a quiet voice. “It was because of Captain Davis.”

“Davis?! You mean, his death?”

“Partly. And partly because of his life.”

“He was great, but he was no angel.”

“On the contrary. Angels are all around us. He was one of mine.”

“How do you figure that? If you don’t mind saying.”

“I don’t. That’s why I brought the subject up.” His eyes got a twinkle in them. “Do you remember that time when you and Hoffman got drunk and I tried to get you back to your quarters without Davis finding out?”

Alex grinned. “How could I forget?!”

“I wanted revenge for that afternoon, Alex. I hope you realize that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.”

“And I got my revenge.”

Alex gave him a questioning look.

“Or so I thought. I made you sick to your stomach the next morning.”

“You took care of me.”

“Only after Davis talked to me. He knew what I’d done and that I wasn’t feeling too proud of myself. He didn’t tell me off, either. Just made me see what I had to do if I wanted to feel right about staying your friend.”

Alex smiled. “He was taking care of his charges again.”

“And what was it? A week? Ten days later when he was killed? I couldn’t get that out of my mind. He’d been there when I needed him, and then he was gone just that quickly. I’ve never known such grief for someone outside my family. There was no funeral. There was no closure. We just went on with our lives and the mop up in Europe.“ Manny frowned. “We just went on, as if he’d never existed. And I was alone. You were in jail for fighting, and Collie was in the hospital where you’d put him. The only way I could pay my debt to Davis was to help other people. That’s why the ministry seemed to be the most logical career choice for me. That‘s the only way I could say thanks to a guy who had influenced me so much. I could make my life his memorial.”

Alex was overwhelmed by the depth of Manny’s feelings and the extent of his devotion. And Alex thought he’d had special memories of Davis! He was a piker compared to Manny!

Alex studied his friend a long time. “I think George Davis would be mighty proud of what you’ve done and why you’ve done it.”

“He’s my hero, Alex,” Manny said softly. “Even if he had to die to become it.”

“You couldn’t have picked any better,” Alex answered softly back. 

“And here’s something else. You know that teenage boy of mine?” He grinned. “The one with his head up his ass?”

“The one who’s going to pull his head out of his ass when he hits twenty-one and amaze his old man with how bright and capable he really is?” Alex asked with a gentle grin. “Yeah, what about him?”

“His name is George Davis Maninsky.”

Alex’s eyes widened. Wow! He really was a piker.

 

“I’m leaving the tour at Heidelberg,” Alex told Manny the next day on the bus. 

“Why?”

“For one thing, that’s where I was shot and left the war. You guys went back to Metz without me, and then on east to the rest of the mop-up.”

“Are you going on to Paris to meet us at the end of the tour, or are you just headed on back to the States?”

“I thought I’d take the train up to Frankfurt. It’s just north of Heidelberg.”

Manny grinned. “I thought maybe you might. You’re going to see if that teacher at the university really is Hoffman, aren‘t you?”

“I have to know, Manny. And if it isn’t him,” he said, shrugging, “then I’ll consider that chapter in my life truly over.”

“I hope that doesn’t include me.”

Bryant grinned. “Now that I’ve found you back, I’m not losing you again.”

“May I remind you that I’m the one who found you back? I think I’m the one who called you so you wouldn’t miss lunch.”

“I’ll return the favor sometime by calling you at seven a.m. so you won’t miss breakfast.”

Manny groaned. “That would be five a.m. where I’ll be in Boise, Alex.”

“See?” Alex grinned. “You sure as hell wouldn’t miss breakfast that way.”

Manny grinned, also. “I surely wouldn’t.” He paused. “Do you want me to go with you up to Frankfurt?”

“No, thanks, Manny. This is something I have to do myself.”

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“What’s that?”

“You tried so hard to keep it all so impersonal between him and us, but it didn’t work out, did it? You must’ve forgotten to warn yourself. I watched you two try not to mean something to each other and get all torn up inside from the effort. I wanted to tell you both to admit that you were friends and move on, but it wouldn‘t have done any good. Neither one of you would’ve listened.“ 

“Probably not. We might have, though, to you or Collie.“ He pursed his lips. “Or George Davis.“

“I wish Collie or I would’ve tried.”

“So do I. Still, a third party, even if it had been one of you guys, might get caught in the middle.”

“I know. That can come back to bite the ass of the third party.”

Alex grinned. “Such language for a minister.”

Manny grinned back. “I’m a minister, not a saint. But, still, you two might not have wanted the interference, even if it had seemed logical to other people that you should be friends.”

Alex seemed reflective. “At the time, Hoffman and I both thought it was for the best to keep our distance. We never talked about it. We just knew. We didn’t want to get hurt later. But I know we did. And we hurt ourselves needlessly at the time. I learned too late that I was wrong, but I couldn’t correct it. I was laid up in the hospital and Hoffman had been torn out of my life just as surely as if he’d been killed that day in Heidelberg. Someone back home said I came back from the war all torn up inside. She used the same expression you just did. But it pretty well covers the subject. I was all torn up inside. I guess that wound has never healed.”

“You can’t fool the heart,” Manny said gently.

“I wish you would’ve told me that bit of wisdom twenty-five years ago.“

“Maybe I didn’t know it twenty-five years ago myself to tell you. We were just kids, Alex. We thought we were grownups, but we were sadly mistaken. I know I learn every day how much I really don’t know.“

“I know I’m finally learning about friendship. I tried to dictate the relationship between Hoffman and me, but friendship doesn’t work that way. It has a way of sneaking up on you and making you like it, despite your hardest efforts to prevent it. And when it’s lost, it leaves a big raw wound inside.“

“I know you‘ve missed him all these years. And now you‘re going to try to look him up.” Manny tilted his head in wonder. “How‘s that going to work, Alex? What will you say to him if you do find him?”

“I don’t know, Manny. I don’t even know what kind of reception I’ll get. We quarreled right before I got shot.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You guys had already pulled out for Metz. I told him off about not saying goodbye to you.”

“But he did. When we got to Metz, we found notes from him in our gear.”

Bryant frowned. 

“Alex, if he couldn’t face us, imagine how he felt about saying goodbye to you.”

Alex breathed deeply. “He did. The same way he said goodbye to you. I found his note in my gear when I got Stateside. Long after I could do anything about it.”

“Christ, Alex, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if it’s wise to hunt for him. It might be best to let him be just a bittersweet memory like George Davis is.”

“Alex, you’re this close. You can’t walk away without finding out for sure.”

Alex took a deep breath. “I know. That’s why I’m headed for Frankfurt Am Main. Good, bad, or indifferent, I‘ve got to know.”

“Then God speed, my friend.”

“Thanks for the blessing. I think I’ll need it.” He grinned. “You finally got a commercial for your product worked in, didn’t you?”

Manny looked smug. “Hey, what can I say? God works in mysterious ways.” Then he looked serious. “He’s working in you, Alex. Just sit back and let it happen. Expect a miracle, and it just might happen.”

“I wouldn’t fight it, Manny. And I’m about due for one.”

“No, Alex. You are the miracle. You just think you’re a lost sheep not worth the effort. But you are worth any good that comes your way. Because you’re a good person, Alex, perhaps better than you think you are. You are worth God’s love and the love of the people in your life. And God will get you in the end. He’s got infinite patience.” He winked. “And infinite love. Just watch. He‘s got something good planned for you. I have feeling it‘s going to be wonderful. You might not recognize it at first, but it will be there.”

Alex settled back in his seat. “Bring it on. There might be something to this God thing, after all.”

“You’re no atheist, Alex. He never doubted your belief in Him. You’ve just doubted His belief in you. But it’s there, Alex. He’ll prove it, and maybe in ways that will amaze you. Maybe He will give you a trust that you will think you can’t fulfill. But I think you can. And so does God.”

“Don’t you and God load too much on me.”

“No more than you can handle, Alex. But I think you can. And so does God.”

Alex breathed deeply as he stared unseeing out of the windshield of the bus. “Christ, I hope you’re right.” 

“It’s not I who is right, it’s God. So gird your loins, my friend. The Second World War might seem like a piece of cake compared to what’s ahead for you.”

Alex breathed deeply. “That’s what I’m afraid of. The challenge.”

“No, Alex, that’s the glory.”


	23. The Man He Could Not Forget

In the Frankfurt telephone book, Alex found the address for a Hans D. Hoffman and wrote it down on a slip of paper. Alex sat in his third floor hotel room, stared at the piece of paper, and wondered if he should call the number. Was the past best buried in the past, and should the future be his only concern?

It was logical that he should be thinking of Hoffman. After all, the two might be just a few scant blocks away from each other after so many years apart. What wasn’t logical was that he was also thinking of his past after he healed from his war wounds and tried to decide what to do with the rest of his life. 

 

One thing that helped to pull the United States out of The Great Depression of the 1930s was the outbreak of the Second World War. Wartime stimulated the American economy and provided jobs to thousands of unemployed workers. Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s social programs might have eventually ended the Depression, but the war did it much quicker. As some people were overheard to say, War is good business. Industry boomed with the demand for airplanes, jeeps, weapons, and other paraphernalia of battle.

But what would happen when those demands were seriously curtailed by peace? Would an armistice send a flourishing American economy back into stagnation? Would the Great Depression simply resume after the stimulus of the war ended? And what would happen to all of those military people who would suddenly be seeking employment?

Other people were thinking about that same potential problem. Long before the Second World War ended, Washington politicians were framing a proposal to help veterans returning to civilian life who wanted and needed to enter the workforce through an education and training program. Loans for small businesses and home purchases were also included in this plan. Through it, the federal government sought to prevent a relapse into the 1930s Depression. Because of it, thousands of returning G.I.s were helped into the next phase of their lives. Alexander Philip Bryant was one of them.

When Alex was discharged from the Army, he attended college on the GI Bill, as this program was called. Brash and eagerly anticipating good times ahead, he studied business procedures and eventually entered the world of finance where he wore a suit to work each day. That was quite a step up for someone who had sprung from the laboring force of society. He got a job at an advertising agency and married the boss’s daughter. He and Winifred set up housekeeping in the newly discovered area known as the suburbs. Suddenly Alex Bryant was on his way in the postwar economy.

Although Winifred was no great beauty, she knew the better people of their city and introduced Alex into the Country Club set. They lived in a whirlwind of society and young married couples. They talked of starting a family someday, but they weren’t in a rush. Alex was his father-in-law’s golden boy, and Alex knew he had at last tapped into the American Dream that was emerging after the War.

His life with Winifred was so far divorced from his upbringing and his years in the Army that Alex sometimes felt like he was watching someone else live his life. He should have been happy and he was, but this way of living didn’t seem real to him.

Alex never expected to marry Winifred Poindexter, but Daddy Thad said he had to if he wanted to be associated with Poindexter Enterprises. And Alex wanted to be associated with Poindexter Enterprises. He decided, what the hell. He could screw his way into a posh job, and so he did.

Telling Manny about his marriage probably had reminded Alex of it. And it was true that he and Winifred had been married many years. Eighteen to be exact. And one reason why they had lived happily together was that they really didn’t live together. True, they shared a home and made public appearances together. But that was more or less where their relationship had ended. 

For Winifred hadn’t really wanted marriage. She was probably asexual in a world that really didn’t know what that term meant. A sham marriage to Alex would give her the veneer of a normal life. She and Alex did have relations at first, then drifted away from even those conventions. The main reason she was childless was that she didn’t engage in sex. And as Grandpa Houston would have explained, “You gotta be exposed to it if you wanna come down with it. There was only one immaculate conception, and that was a long time ago and a long ways away from here. It ain‘t gonna happen nowadays.“ 

Their marriage was a good arrangement for Alex, too. He could have as many women on the side that he wanted. The only thing that Winifred and her father demanded was that he be discreet. That Alex was willing to do.

His most serious relationship was with Sandra, a career woman who worked in a neighboring business firm in their building. Sandra hadn’t wanted marriage, either, until she had Alex’s daughter, and then Sandra wanted the legitimacy of marriage. And at that point, Alex decided that he wanted Sandra. But then there was the problem of his marriage to Winifred. Alex really didn’t want to give her up. Alex and Winifred weren’t exactly friends, but they understood each other and accepted each other on a level that was difficult to accept by other people. They were compatible companions, and neither one wanted to give that up. 

And then Winifred had sickened and died. And Alex, despite their strange marriage arrangement, grieved for her. In a way, he had loved her and always would. But when a decent period of mourning had passed, he married Sandra, and the two business people bought a home in the suburbs and became middle-class Americans with a young daughter in day care. Winifred’s father Thad Poindexter became an honorary grandfather to little Josie and remained such until he, too, passed away from illness.

Then had passed several years in which Sandra and Alex had lived the American dream with them both working and daycares and babysitters raising their daughter. Then had come the demise of Poindexter Enterprises about the time that Sandra caught on that Alex had been seeing women on the side. Alex had started a downward slide on a steadily sharper angled slope that plunged him into a meager junior executive job in a third rate business rival. About this time, Sandra demanded a divorce and Alex, who was wealthy on paper but not in actuality, was left almost penniless. 

That’s why he was living in a small apartment and scraping out an existence. He didn’t care about creature comforts, though, so he didn’t mind the life he was living. Farm living as a child and his Army days had taught him that his body really didn’t need to be comfortable to survive. He didn’t care if he wore the newest suits and had his apartment painted in the latest colors. Just so his body was covered, and he had a place to store those clothes and sleep in peace, he was happy.

There were some assets of Alex’s that Sandra had been unable to touch. Daddy Thad had set up a trust account for Alex that was ironclad his. Alex generally didn't touch those funds as if they didn't really exist. They were for an emergency, his ace in the hole. Some of those funds had provided Alex’s fare to Europe.

 

So, here Alex was in Frankfurt, Germany, and the man he could not forget may be living just a few blocks away. Alex felt that there was a chapter that had not been closed between him and Hans Deiter. And part of it was that the German thought Alex was a better person than Alex thought he was.

Did Alex want to face this person from his past? Could he face himself, for he felt that was what he was going to have to do before he left this city. 

Wasn’t that indeed what he had really come to Europe to do?

All these things went through the mind of Alex Bryant before he left his hotel to locate the residence of the man who may or may not be able to liberate him from the past.

 

Bryant stood outside the modest two story home in the suburbs of Frankfurt and wondered if he should even be here. It would be so simple just to walk away, to never know--

RING!

The split-second decision to ring the doorbell had been done, and he squared his shoulders with resolution. But his stomach still roiled with trepidation.

The woman who answered the door was a dishwater blonde with sagging, post-menopausal skin. Her eyes were a pale, watery blue to match her drab hair. She had faded like so many other Teutonic women were prone to fade and was probably Hoffman’s wife. So he had found back his wife at the end of the war, after all.

Somehow Bryant had not expected Hoffman to have fallen in love with a mousey looking creature such as this, but he supposed Hoffman had been distracted by her youth and the setting of a college campus in prewar Berlin. After all, he reminded himself, the poets say that love is blind. And in the this case, it must’ve been totally blind. Then Alex chided himself. This woman was probably a lovely housekeeper and a wonderful companion. Besides, who was he to judge? He was approaching middle age as quickly as she was.

“Ja?” she asked and her face showed her puzzlement.

“I’d like to speak with Herr Hoffman, if I may, please.”

The woman opened the door further and stepped aside. She was a tiny thing with hardly any meat on her bones. And timid. She hadn‘t looked into his face since that brief glance up. “This way, please.”

Bryant followed the woman through a small, formal front room toward another door. “My brother is reading in the parlor. He has been expecting you.” 

Bryant opened his mouth to correct her, but just that quickly she had knocked on the door. “Hans? There is a gentleman here to see you, the gentleman you were expecting.”

“Come in, Helga,” came the muffled reply. 

Bryant jerked. The voice. My God, the voice. It was him. It was Hoffman!

Bryant could almost see the other man adjusting his glasses and carefully placing a bookmark in his book before he pulled himself out of his comfortable chair to greet his guest.

The door swung open, and Bryant saw a pudgy, middle-aged man who looked back at him puzzled. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“I am sorry, Hans,” the sister apologized in confusion. “I thought this was the gentleman you were expecting.”

“I have never seen this person before, Helga.”

Bryant stepped around the woman and grinned at the German. “Oh, yes, you have, Hans Deiter. It’s been a few years, but I think you’re wearing the same glasses you wore twenty-five years ago. And still reading, I see. What is it? Jonathan Livingston Seagull? I brought that one with me because it‘s so small and fitted in my luggage so nicely. I guess I can‘t loan it to you, though, since you‘ve already got your own copy.”

Hoffman‘s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “Bryant?” His voice was like ashes and without much force. He wet his lips. “Mien Gott. Bryant?”

Bryant didn’t know whether to smile or to frown. “Yes,” he answered softly. He hadn’t considered what his unannounced appearance after all these years would do to Hoffman. He’d had his own emotions to deal with “Yes, I am Alex Bryant.”

Hoffman sat down heavily in the chair he had just vacated. He clamped his hand over his mouth, then slowly withdrew it as he stared up at Bryant. “Mien Gott en hemmel, I do not believe it.” He frowned. “Bryant?”

Alex grinned, a little nervously. “Yes. Bryant.”

“I cannot believe this.“ Hoffman swallowed a few times. “I am sorry.” He bent his head. “I am not ready for this. You will have to leave.”

“Hans!” his sister chided.

“Just show him to the door.“ Hoffman tented his hand over his eyes. “Please, Helga,” he whispered. “I beg of you. Please.” He waved the fingers of one hand in the air. “Just, just show him to the door. Please.”

“I am so sorry,” Helga murmured to Bryant.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Hans Deiter,” Bryant said with a frown marring his face. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright, and I can see now that you are. I’m glad that everything is going well for you, and I am satisfied. Sorry I bothered you,” Bryant muttered as he turned to leave.

“Wait,” came the muffled request.

Bryant turned back. 

Hoffman had raised his head, and his face didn’t look quite so white anymore. Just stunned. He stared at Bryant as if he still could not believe what was standing before him. He wet his lips and tried to speak several times as he struggled with his shock. “I cannot talk now,” he finally managed. “Maybe later.”

Bryant stared at him. “Alright,” he said slowly.

“Just, please do not leave the city. I cannot let you disappear, without knowing, without asking, without--” Hoffman’s hand fluttered in the air.

Bryant nodded. “The third man in the ring isn’t with us anymore. It was a hindrance before, but also a shield. Now it‘d just be us. That might not be good.”

Hoffman nodded. “I know.” He looked away.

Bryant wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to Helga. “My address and my telephone number here in Frankfurt.“ He glanced at Hoffman. “In case--”

“Thank you, Herr Bryant. I will keep it.” She glanced at her brother’s bent head. “Let me show you the way out.” 

At the door, she paused. “I am so sorry. My brother must be very upset. He generally does not act this way. He is generally the courtly gentleman.”

“I know.”

“You do? You have been close to my brother?”

Alex glanced back at the closed parlor door. “Once. A long time ago. I guess too long ago.” He looked down at her. “Thank you, Fraulein. Good day to you.”

“Good day, Herr Bryant.” She closed the front door on him, then looked with worry toward the room where her upset brother was trying to calm himself down.

 

Alex walked along the streets of Frankfurt without any set direction in mind. It might have been better if he’d gone on with Manny. There had been too many shocks in his life lately. Collie gone. Manny a minister. And now Alex had delivered a shock of his own. 

Hoffman had acted as if he were seeing a ghost when Alex appeared in his parlor, and in many ways Alex was. Alex shouldn’t have come here. But now he had set a new cycle of circumstances in motion, and he had to see them through. He had promised Hoffman that he would not leave the city. And he would keep his promise, despite the trauma he might cause to both of them.


	24. So You Are The One

“Good afternoon, Herr Bryant.”

Alex looked up from his table at the outdoor cafe, blinked in recognition, wiped his napkin across his mouth, and stood up. “Fraulein Hoffman. Won’t you join me?”

“Thank you, I will,” she said as she settled in the chair opposite Bryant. “And it is Frau Gruber, if you please.”

“Really?”

“Just coffee, please,” she said aside to the waiter. Then to Alex: “I am a widow.”

“Sorry, Frau Gruber, for your loss. And for my mistake.”

“It is logical. You did not know.” She set her purse aside, then gave Bryant her full attention. A soft smile settled across her pale lips as she studied him. 

The unabashed scrutiny made Alex uncomfortable, but he felt that he was held firm in her gaze and couldn‘t move. He wasn‘t accustomed to someone else being in control of him. He couldn’t wait until she spoke or acted to break the trance she held him in, for he was powerless to help himself. 

“And I did not know the other day that you were the one,” she said in satisfaction after she finished sizing him up and seemed pleased with what she had found.

“The one? Pardon, Frau? The one what?”

“Not the one what. The one WHO. The one who saved my brother’s life.”

Bryant looked down. There was that praise thing again. Now he had to watch out for her angle, because everybody had one. Everybody wanted something. They were in it for their sake, not for his. Hadn’t Life taught him that, over and over again?

“Saved his life when he did not really want to live.” She was very pleased with what she had found with him.

“I couldn’t just let him die like that, Frau. And he was grieving so much for his daughter, he wasn‘t even thinking of self-preservation.”

“Grief is a terrible thing, Herr Bryant. Lisl was his life. I expect when he learned she had died, he wanted to join her.”

“Damned nearly did, too,” Bryant muttered.

“But you did not allow it. Danka,” she said to the waiter who set a cup of steaming coffee in front of her. 

She added some cream to her coffee and thoughtfully stirred her drink. Quiet moments slid by, but it was a companionable silence. It was extraordinary, she thought, that she should feel so at ease with a relative stranger. Perhaps it was because her brother had once felt so comfortable with Alex Bryant. 

“And danka to you for what you did for us, Herr Bryant. I appreciated getting my brother back. It was the one bright light for me in all of that misery that was 1945. At least we had each other again. It was a start, a good start. And we all needed something good in our lives. And you gave us that.“ 

“I thank you for mentioning it.” He gave her a tight-lipped grin. “I appreciate your appreciation, but that’s not what I came for.”

Helga took a tentative sip of the coffee and decided to let it cool some more. 

“Excuse me for being blunt, Herr Bryant, then why are you here? Why did you hunt up my brother after all these years?”

“I don’t know for sure. Curiosity, I guess. Maybe it was to see if saving him made a difference.”

“I think it has. He appreciates his life and the contribution he is making. You did good by saving him.”

“I’m not after your praise, but did he tell you that it hadn’t been the first time?”

“You saved his life several times, I understand. The first, out on the battlefield, he wanted to live. And the second, well, the second--”

Bryant pursed his lips and stared hard past her shoulder. “The second, he wanted to die. He didn‘t want to be in a world without his daughter.“ He rallied. “The first time was the afternoon he surrendered to me. We were fighting near Nancy, France. Troops from both sides were milling around. No one knew where the battle lines really were, and he got on the wrong side .”

“He said he decided to surrender before he got shot.”

“I was going to turn him over to command because he was an officer and might have some valuable information. That’s where my part was supposed to end. We were moving out, and I wanted to go with my outfit. I didn’t have time to baby sit a prisoner. Then, when I was talking to my commander, your brother got out in no man’s land, hand-cuffed and blindfolded. He didn’t know where he was running. Artillery shells were landing all around him. He was like a target in a shooting gallery. I wanted to go after him, but my CO said no. I disobeyed orders and hauled your brother back. The brass didn’t know whether to decorate me or shoot me. Then they decided that since I had saved him, I could baby sit him for real. The brass wanted to rehabilitate the German army and the civilians and decided to put me in charge of your brother so we could do that sort of thing together. I think my face turned purple. I found out later that Hans Deiter refused to work with anyone else. I don’t know why he insisted on me.”

“He trusted you. Right from the first, he thought you were the most humane of the enemy soldiers. He said he just sensed that you were a good person. That is why he surrendered to you. He thought you would protect him, and you did.”

Bryant frowned. “I almost didn’t. While I was arguing with the brass about what to do with him, some of my men decided to solve the problem and have a little fun. They blindfolded and handcuffed him, took him out to no man’s land, spun him around, and told him to run. When I saw what was happening, I yelled, ‘What are you doing?!‘ And one of my men answered, ‘What’s wrong, Captain? He’s just a Nazi.‘ And I yelled back, ‘He’s a man!‘”

“Ja, Ja,” Frau Gruber whispered. "That is true. Just a man. But such a man!"

Bryant was reliving the scene all over again. “I dropped my gun and took off after him without any regard of the consequences. By then bullets from both sides were flying everywhere, and we had a skirmish on our hands. I yelled for him to fall down, and after a moment he dropped like a sack of potatoes. I didn’t know if he’d heard me or had gotten shot. I fell beside him, ripped off the blindfold, and helped him crawl back to safety. It was scary as hell. At any time we both could have gotten killed. When I got back, I wanted to lynch my own men, but I understood what had happened. An hour before, none of us would‘ve thought twice about shooting him in battle. He would‘ve been just another faceless uniform. I think that‘s the only way most soldiers can kill another person. They don‘t think of the enemy as people, just faceless uniforms. When my guys realized I could‘ve gotten killed, too, they were sheepish. They’d crabbed about me and we’d disagreed personally, but we were buddies. We’d already lost a lot of guys we’d cared about. My guys didn’t want me dead.” He grinned. “Maybe daunted sometimes.” He sobered. “But never dead. We took care of each other. I never did find out who did it. I think I really didn’t care to know. My guys were just letting off steam.”

“And Hans could have died because of that.”

“Men died for a lot less. Men died for stupid, inane reasons in stupid, asinine ways that should’ve never happened.“ Muscles worked in Bryant’s jaw. “It was only pure luck he’d made it as far as he had. It was only pure luck any of us had.”

“So that is how you saved him the first two times. The third time was at the rally in Heidelberg when you got shot.” She paused. “It was really extraordinary what you did, you know.” 

“What’s that? Getting shot? Any idiot can do that.”

“Please. Do not make light of it. You saved your enemy. And so many times.”

“It would’ve been the waste of a good man, a man who was needed to help rebuild his country.”

“Is that why you stepped in front of a bullet meant for him?”

“I tripped,” Bryant mumbled.

Helga Gruber laughed, and the unexpected outburst relaxed her face and made her rather pleasant looking. “No, you did not. I have heard differently. You saw the gun aimed at him and tried to push him aside.”

“It makes a better story the way I tell it, don’t you think?“ 

She smiled at him.

Bryant tilted his head at her. “You don’t do that very often, do you?”

“We do not have much to laugh about these days. Germany is still not a happy place. We try for the sake of the young ones. Already, there are children who do not remember, because they were too little to know. Some day, they will bring laughter back to Germany.”

Bryant toyed with his coffee cup. “Did your brother also tell you that after I was shot, he grabbed me and kept me from taking a nasty fall?”

“He said he was using you as a shield.”

It was Bryant’s turn to laugh. “I didn’t know ol’ Hans could be funny.”

“There is a lot you don‘t know about each other.” She studied him as she tried sipping her coffee again. “You do not do that very often yourself, do you? Laugh, I mean.”

Bryant squinted as he watched without seeing a young couple and their toddler across the street. “Seems to be a lot of misery in the world. It‘s a pretty serious place.”

“When you were at our house, you said something about the third man in the ring wasn’t with you two anymore. What did you mean by that?”

“The war. The war was the third man in the ring for us. In boxing, the third man in the ring is the referee. The war was the referee keeping us apart. I don’t know how we’d be without that buffer.” He stirred around as if to leave. “This was a bad idea. I can still catch up with my group in Paris.”

She grabbed his arm. “Wait. Please.”

Bryant settled in his chair and stared at her.

“It was not an accident that I came across you just now. I tried your telephone number, but you did not answer. I took the chance that you were out sightseeing, and here you are out under our trees, enjoying our lovely weather.”

“I wasn‘t aware that there were so many outdoor cafes in Germany. I thought the French had a monopoly on them.”

“Germans love to eat outside. As soon as it is warm enough in the spring, we flock to these cafes.” Helga smiled at her surroundings. “And the trees. We love our trees. Down through history, Germans have been inspired by their forests.” She grew thoughtful and a little sad. “These linden trees over us now aren’t as famous as the ones growing in Berlin, but the Communists keep us away from that beautiful city. Our hearts cry out to our poor countrymen trapped behind the Berlin Wall.“

“Do you know Berlin well?”

“We grew up there. Our parents and Lisl and so many other family members are buried in East Berlin. We cannot even go visit their graves.”

“That’s very sad.”

“We feel displaced. After all of these years in Frankfurt, we still feel like aliens.”

“Maybe you need a fresh start somewhere else.” He gave her a small smile. “Did you ever consider emigrating to the United States?”

“Oh, heavens! A move like that, at our ages?!”

“Why not? People do it everyday. And we’d try our best to make you feel at home. That must be pretty rough, feeling like strangers in your own homeland.”

“There were so many bad things that happened to ordinary German people even after the war that it will take a generation to put it behind us. Even after all these years, the war still haunts some people.”

He grinned. “I don’t want to diminish the situation in Germany, but there’s still people in our Deep South who consider the ’War of Southern Secession’, as they call our Civil War, not to be over And it’s been a hundred years since Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox.“ 

“Oh, heavens,“ she said, startled, “I hope we do not have to wait that long!“ She grew thoughtful. “I would so love to see Berlin as I remember it.” She sighed. “But that is not to be. Were you in the city at the close of the war?”

“Berlin? No, I didn’t make it that far north.” He gave her a thin smile. “Looks like I won’t get much further north this time, either. But that’s okay.” He looked around him in appreciation. “This is what I came to see.”

She gazed at a tree near her. “Ah, the linden trees of Berlin. Hans was always particularly fond of them. That is where he met and courted Annaliese. They were students at the university and so young and so in love. He was crazy about her, and spoiled her terribly. But she was so nice to spoil. It never went to her head the way it does so many pretty women. Why are you smiling?“

“I can’t imagine Hans Deiter as amorous. He seems more bookish.“

“He is. But Annaliese brought out a different side of him. They were so in love. I remember thinking how romantic they seemed. I was a teenager and in love with the idea of love.“ She gazed at the tree again. “In German mythology, the linden is the tree of lovers, so you can understand how appropriate it was for Hans and Annaliese to fall in love under them. The English call them lime trees. Have you seen them in England?” 

He grinned. “I don’t know. I was more interested in the English girls when I was there.”

“And when were you there?”

“Before the Normandy Invasion.”

“Then you were in a lot of fighting.”

“For months. Across northern France and then into southwest Germany. And then the march to Berlin, but I missed that. After I got shot, I was sent Stateside.”

“And you have never been back to Europe since?”

“I guess I thought I’d seen enough of it during the war.” He gave her a sharp look, suddenly remembering something she had said earlier. “Why were you trying to phone me?”

“I was trying to contact you. My brother is willing to see you now.”

Bryant frowned. “Well, I don’t know if I want to see him.”

“Please. I think it will do the both of you some good.”

Bryant smirked. “Two old men hashing over the past?”

“Two good men making peace with themselves, and with each other. Please, Herr Bryant. Save my brother‘s life again..”

“Well, since you put it that way, how could I refuse?”

Now he knew what she wanted from him. Everybody has an angle. Even him. 

And wasn’t it nice that it agreed so completely with hers?


	25. The Garden Meeting

Bryant rang the doorbell, and a moment later Helga Gruber opened the door and smiled at him.

“Herr Bryant, do come in. I am so happy to see you.” And, indeed, her face did reflect that she was pleased. 

A soft smile and pleasure in her eyes to see him improved her looks quite a bit, he thought. “Thank you, Frau Gruber.” Then, remembering his purpose for being here, he glanced around for Hoffman, but did not see him.

Helga could feel his nervousness and had to stop herself from placing a comforting hand on his arm. She gave him a gentle smile that was almost as good as a touch. She could see him visibly relax. “Hans is out in the garden. Will you follow me, please?” She led the way. “Are you enjoying our city, Herr Bryant?”

He more mumbled than voiced an answer. His nervousness was back. It made her feel protective of him, almost motherly. Odd that she would feel that way of a stranger when she should be thinking only of Hans and his emotions. But she could sense Bryant’s underlying decency. He was a good person, and the thought crossed her mind that maybe Bryant wasn’t aware of that good trait about himself. How sad that everyone else could realize it, but he couldn’t. It made her feel warmer toward him, and she wanted to tell him something that would spread that warmth to him.

“You know, the other day when you came here, you said something that made me realize that you were important in my brother’s past.”

“And what was that?”

She looked back at Bryant and smiled. “You called him Hans Deiter.”

Bryant gave her a puzzled look. “That’s his name.”

“But not everybody knows the middle name. It comes from our grandfather. He was such a wonderful person.” She smiled again. “We have such marvelous memories of him and of visiting him on his farm in the Tyrol.”

He tilted his head and studied her. “You’re very animated today.”

She looked back in surprise. “Why, Herr Bryant, why do you say that?”

“The smiles,” Bryant replied with a smile of his own tugging at the corners of his mouth. “They look very good on you.”

Helga had the grace to blush. Bryant found it quite charming. He thought women didn‘t do that anymore. It made Helga look almost girlish. 

Bryant felt himself soften toward her and was glad that he had met this gracious lady. She was like a delicate jewel with hidden facets being cautiously revealed in small doses or a rare flower blossoming slowly before him as she gradually trusted him to reveal more of herself. What a one-dimensional picture the first impression of her had given him! How glad he was that she had found him at the sidewalk café.

“I am just happy that you are here. Your visit will do Hans a world of good.“ Helga opened a door. “And here we are,” she announced as she led him into a small backyard with dozens of blooming flowers. 

Alex looked around him. The garden was a tiny area, actually. Another delicate jewel with hidden facets, he thought. And in the middle of it, the perfect gem.

Hoffman was bent over a bed of flowers.

“Hans, Herr Bryant is here!” Helga sang out with forced glee.

Hoffman straightened and turned. He nodded curtly at Bryant.

“You gentlemen seat yourselves and I will bring you some schnapps.”

Hoffman swept his hand toward a couple of steel chairs beside a table. “Herr? Won’t you be seated?”

The men sat down, and an uneasy stillness settled over them.

Bryant looked around at the flowers. “It’s lovely back here. And restful, I expect. Do you do all the work yourself?”

“Ja. I do it for relaxation.”

“Relaxation? From what?”

“I am a professor at the university. I teach foreign languages. English, in particular.”

Bryant relaxed and smiled. “You learned a lot of that English from me.”

“Just like you learned some of your German from me.”

“The basic course I got in Officers Training School.”

“I hope you have made good use of your German.”

“I use it now just to impress people.”

“Too bad. You picked it up quickly. Ah, Helga, thank you for the schnapps.”

“Danka. Sorry, Herr Bryant. Maybe you would prefer that I should speak English.”

“He knows German.” Hoffman’s eyes twinkled at last. “Some.” 

Helga’s face softened and she looked at Bryant with gratitude. She could feel that the tension in her brother had relaxed. “I’ll leave you gentlemen alone.”

The men sipped their drinks.

“Thanks” said Bryant. He set his drink down and glanced at Hoffman. “You probably wondered how I dropped out of the sky the way I did.”

“It did cross my mind.”

“Army reunion. Not my idea.”

Hoffman nodded. “I understand that Europe gets all kinds of Americans back who want to see where they once fought.”

“You’re close to where it all happened for you. Do you ever go back?”

Hoffman frowned. “To northeast France? To Heidelberg? Would you want to go back to your defeats? Those places hold no allure for me.”

“Sorry. Of course, they wouldn’t. Look, I’m sorry about the other day, too. I didn’t mean to shock you so much.”

Hoffman set down his drink. “It wasn’t that. I thought I was looking at a dead man. The last time I saw you, you had been shot and were unconscious. Medical people were carrying you away. No one would tell me how you were. I thought you had received just a shoulder wound. When it happened, I thought perhaps the bullet had just grazed your arm. But when you passed out, I decided that the injury was worse than it looked. I thought perhaps the bullet had gone deeper, maybe into your lungs or even your heart. No one would tell me.” He shrugged. “I was just the enemy. No one thought of my concern.”

“Yeah, you were the enemy, but we got along pretty well. If it hadn’t been for the war, we could’ve been friends.”

“If it hadn’t been for the war, you would not even have noticed me!”

Bryant winced. He knew Hoffman was right.

“You’re right about my arm,“ Bryant said, to change the subject. “It was just a shoulder wound. I passed out, just like a girl would.” A wry grin cracked his face. “I fainted.”

“Shoulder wounds can be complicated and difficult to heal.”

Bryant flexed his shoulder. “That, they can. It got me sent Stateside with a nice long hospital stay with rehab. Then I got a boring desk job for the rest of the war. They didn‘t want to take any more chances with me. I‘d already cost them plenty. They didn‘t want to have to take care of me for the rest of my life.”

Suddenly, there was nothing to talk about. All the men had was a past together. And the past couldn’t be brought back, Bryant suddenly realized. It was a mistake to have come here.

Bryant reached into his pocket. He had to find a connection with Hoffman.

“Look what I still have.” He opened his hand and revealed a deck of well-used playing cards.

Hoffman’s face softened. “The deck I gave you? That Christmas?”

“Yeah. Christmas, 1944, when we tried to give a good time to the poor civilians.”

“And it was not the money we spent, but the feeling we gave them that something could still be good in the world,” Hoffman reflected. “We took them back to a time when they were safe and sheltered again, if only for a few hours. They remembered when they had felt loved.” He brought himself back to the present. “I’m surprised you still have the cards.”

“It was better than the souvenirs that some guys took home: German flags, helmets, bloody insignias.” He fingered the deck. “I always kept the cards safe. I never let my daughter play with them.”

Hoffman frowned. “You should have. They are only playing cards. And your daughter, well, she, she is your daughter.”

Bryant thought of the daughter Hoffman had lost, his Lisl, the child he’d nearly joined in death.

“Did you ever find your wife?”

“Annaliese?” he frowned. “Ja.” He was quiet for a moment. “She had been institutionalized. Lisl’s death had shattered her, also. When I got back, I brought her home and tried to make a normal life for us. I thought we might have more children, but that was not to be. It was more than losing Lisl. It was the constant fear, the uncertainty of the life she had lived during the war. I had always protected her, and then she was on her own where she was responsible for not only her life, but our child’s. She had been raised in the old manner where she went from her father’s care to mine. If we would have had a son, she would have eventually passed to his care after I was gone. That was all that she knew. The responsibility and the stress were too much, and she retreated into a shadow world where she felt safe. I could bring her home, but I could not bring her back from that shadow world. She eventually faded away and left me. She and Lisl are buried beside each other.”

Bryant winced. “I’m sorry.”

“There were more tragedies about the war than on the battlefield.”

“You seem very unemotional about it.”

Hoffman gave him a weary smile. “It is merely my way of dealing with it.” He stirred himself. “So, you married and had a family. Odd, you always seemed like a loner.” He gave Bryant a sad smile without mirth. “It must have been quite a woman you finally married.”

“Yeah, she was.”

“Was? I’m sorry, did you lose her?”

“Yeah, I did. No, she didn’t die like Annaliese. Actually, I’ve been married twice. Winifred was more a companion than a wife, but we had a satisfactory life together. And it was enough. Sandra, the mother of my daughter, just got enough of my ‘cold-fish disposition’, as she called it, and she got a divorce. So I am alone now.”

“But you still love her?”

“I love the idea of her, of her being in my life. What bothers me is sometimes I think I could get along better with nobody in my life.”

“That didn’t bother you years ago.”

“Yeah, but now it’s starting to scare the hell out of me. I’m beginning to think that Sandra was right. What kind of cold-fish am I, anyway?” Even as he spoke, he thought it odd that he could admit that to a relative stranger and not to the people in his life now. He shrugged. “Anyway, I’m trying to do something about it. I’m trying to pick up the loose ends of my life.”

Hoffman grinned wryly. “And I am one of those loose ends?”

Bryant frowned. “You’re more like unfinished business. We have a history, Hans Dieter, and I think what we went through brought out the best in the both of us.”

Hoffman pursed his lips in thought. “I think you’re right,” he said at last.

“It was hellish times and it was glorious times.”

“What do you do in America?” Hoffman asked suddenly. “Are you a poet?”

Bryant laughed. “Hardly!”

“You talk like one.”

“Talk’s cheap. I still read, like I saw that you do.“

“Ja, still a big reader.“

“That was something we had in common.“

“Maybe you should have studied literature in college and worked with that now.“

“Maybe I should have. No, I just fell into the business world. Married the boss’s daughter. Made money. Lost money. Made it back. Eventually lost my dead wife’s business. So I failed her and her father. They knew I was no angel, but they always had faith in me. I eventually proved them wrong.“ He stirred himself. “No, I’m no poet or anyone else who works with words.” He looked up and tried to appear enthusiastic. “I’m part owner of a nightclub on the Jersey shore.”

“Jersey? Like England?”

“Yeah. Except the one on the Eastern Seaboard of America.”

“And your daughter lives close to you?”

“Yeah. Well, her mother lives close. Josie has done a year at Princeton.” Bryant frowned. “I understand she’s backpacking through Europe this summer.”

“You understand? You have not talked to her?”

Bryant fidgeted. “No.”

“Sorry. It is not my business.”

“She and I just don’t seem to talk much.”

“That is sad.” He thought a moment. “Is she one of your loose ends?”

Bryant straightened. “Yes. Do you know what the crazy part of all this is? She’s supposed to be coming through here about now. I hope to run across her. Maybe we can talk on neutral ground.”

“So, you really didn’t come here just to see me?”

“It was convenient. I thought, as long as I was in town, I’d see if I could find you. I think I was halfway hoping I wouldn’t. I almost didn’t ring the doorbell that first day. I didn’t know what I’d be stirring up.”

“Just like with your daughter, ja? Sometimes it is easier just to walk away.”

“At the time, it is. I think I’ve been doing that all my life, though. And now I’m starting to feel like a coward by not facing people and situations.”

“You were just protecting yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’m also feeling like I’ve been cheating myself. Holding myself back from other people has been bad enough, but holding other people away has been isolating me. I’ve been building a nice, safe, unemotional shell for myself. But now I think it’s time to tear it down and start living a little.”

“That could hurt.”

Bryant breathed deeply. “I know.” He glanced at Hoffman. “Especially if other people are hiding behind their nice, safe, little shells. They might not be willing to give up their protection.”

Hoffman seemed to close up. He knew what Bryant was asking, but would have to think about it. “There is that,” he murmured. He did not want to commit himself, but he did not want to crush Bryant, either. “I have found that people try to be fair.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Bryant said as he stood. 

Hoffman stood, too. “Leaving?”

“Yes, I think I’ve stayed long enough for one day, don’t you? Thank you for seeing me, Hans Dieter. I do appreciate it.” He turned to go, wondering if this meeting would be the end of it.

“I would like to see you again so we can talk some more, Herr Bryant. Maybe you could come to supper some evening? Could you do that?”

Bryant turned back with a smile of relieved gratitude on his face. “Oh, yes, I could!” He stopped himself from thrusting out his hand to shake Hoffman’s, especially since he did not see Hoffman’s hand move forward. “Well, yes, I can anytime,” he said flustered, then turned almost in a panic to seek the door to the house. “I’ll see myself out,” he mumbled.

“I’ll have Helga call you.”

But Bryant was suddenly gone. Like always.


	26. The Frankfurt Market

“I’m glad you offered to take me around to the old market today,” Alex told Helga as they wove through the crowds in Romerberg Square in Frankfurt am Main. “I love the half-timbered houses. Now, this is what I think of when I think of German homes.”

“All reconstructed, of course,” Helga explained as she clung to his arm. “The Allies destroyed about everything except the cathedral during the war.”

“Too bad. I understand this square in the old town was quite historic. I’m glad to see that the people are keeping the market going.”

“Oh, yes. This is a wonderful place to get fresh fruits and vegetables.”

“And I see a beer garden. Would you like to stop for some refreshment?”

She laughed. “You certainly fit in here. You seem to like our beer very much.”

“I’m always thirsty.” He seated her at a table and ordered their beers. 

“Later, when you are rested,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, “we will go to the Goethehaus where Goethe was born. It is nearby.”

“They’re proud of him here, and they have a right to be.” 

“The university where Hans teaches is even named after Goethe. The Goethe Universtat. It was established early this century, so it is relatively new by European standards. But it is a wonderful place to study, I am told.”

“One of my buddies said he thought Hans was teaching at it, that’s how I managed to track him.”

“I wondered.” 

He frowned. “I think I forgot to mention that to Hans Deiter.”

“I will mention it to him. You found so many things to talk about that day, that it slipped your mind.” Her smile was lovely and contended. “I am happy that you two found so much to talk about that you could not get it all said.”

“Actually, the opposite is true,” he said sheepishly. “There were times when we faced awkward silences.”

“That is understandable, Herr Bryant. Hopeful, it will get better between you.”

“I hope so, too.“ He looked around at the market, buildings, and people milling around. “This is a beautiful city,” he commented.

“Thank you. We are very proud of it. We are so happy to have things to be proud of again. For instance, in a couple of years, Munich is to host the Summer Olympics. It has not been hosted in Germany since 1936 when it was in Berlin. I remember my father and Hans attending some of the games. I was too young to go, they said, and a girl. That was okay, I decided. I would stay home and help Mama make schnitzel.”

“And I bet you turned into a champion cook.”

“Do not hint so brazenly!” she scolded with reddened cheeks. “You will get a chance to try my cooking the next time you visit.”

He smiled at her embarrassment. Her naiveté and guilelessness were refreshing. “I can hardly wait.” Alex took a sip of beer, then set down his stein. “Tell me more about your lives. You said you grew up in Berlin.”

“We had a wonderful childhood, despite the First World War and the influenza. Father was a school teacher so we were not affluent, but there was always money for books and music. And the people that came to the house! The writers, the composers. And the musicians! It was a glorious whirlwind, and a wonderful time to be alive.” She smiled in remembrance. “I am afraid we both would have been quite spoiled by all the attention we received, but Mama made sure we were grounded in the real world. She was the only disciplinarian in our home. Papa did not have the heart of it. Losing children to the influenza after the First World War had caused him to waver in his duty to us. So the duty, and the switch, fell into Mama’s hands. She was a kind person, though, as was our father. They were good people, and Hans and I loved them dearly.”

“Sounds like a wonderful way to grow up.” He did not want to tell her about his unique, checkered childhood. Outside of his grandparents, anything he said would sound too bizarre or fanciful. Nobody could have possibly grown up the way he had, but he did.

“What about you? What was your childhood like?”

Oh, no, she’d asked. Now, what?

“Well, I started out on my grandparents’ farm in northeast Oklahoma, not far from Missouri. Then my mother and I did some traveling around and ended up in New Jersey. I had a brother once, but he died young.” He shrugged. “Not much else to tell, outside of some friends who are like family to me.”

Helga could tell that he was reluctant to dwell on his past, so she took up the thread of her story again. “As a child, Papa had survived a crippling illness that left him with a noticeable limp, especially if he was tired. I think that is one reason he chose teaching as a profession. Another is that he loved education and learning. Most Germans do. And he loved the idea of learning and the practice of it. When Hitler started coming into power, a lot of the better minds, the intellectuals, left Germany to go to the United States. I think if Papa’s health had been better and he and Mama had been younger, we would have emigrated. But he kept hoping that sanity would win out, and Hitler and his ideas would be deposed. As you know, though, that never happened. Hitler’s craziness swept across our land and sucked Hans into the army. My parents and I worried so much about him, but he had his college degree by then and could be an officer. He would not be an ordinary soldier, and that was one blessing for us. It broke his heart, though, to leave his family. He and Annaliese had been married only a few years. Lisl was not quite four the last time he saw her. They had a family picture taken so Lisl could remember her father and so he could carry their images next to his heart.”

“He showed me the picture. The wife was slender and pretty, and the little girl had blonde hair and a mischievous look in her eyes.”

“That is the one!”

“He also showed me the one of a teenage girl with serious eyes with a look of innocence in them. She had a little scar, just there,” he said as he pointed at Helga‘s face, ”on the corner of her chin. What caused that?”

“Knife juggling.”

“Knife juggling?!”

“It was a bet. A childish game. I took on almost any dare back then.”

“If you’d been my kid, you couldn’t have sat down for a week.”

“It took almost that long,” she admitted with a smile. “Of course, being a wound on the face, there was a lot of blood. And my mother worried that I would have a terrible scar that would spoil my chances with men. But that wasn’t her main concern. After she took me to the doctor and got me patched me up, she walloped me soundly. She did not even wait until she got home and found her switch. We caused quite a commotion in the doctor’s waiting room. I think a lot of children were on their good behavior for a long time when they saw what had happened to me. Mama’s punishment was swift and justifiable and applied before I forgot what my transgression was. Her hand hurt about as long as my backside did. But I never juggled knives again.”

He studied her face. “Your scar doesn’t look as prominent as it did in your photograph.”

“It has had time to fade, as my anger against my mother has faded. She was only doing her job. One time I saw how much it took out of here to do what she had to do. A mouse was loose in the house, and she was chasing it with the broom to drive it outside. She had not intended to hurt it, but she took a swipe at the mouse and killed it. She took its poor little corpse outside and buried it in the garden. She explained to us children that there is dignity in each life, no matter how seemingly small or insignificant. And then she went back inside the house and vomited. We never forgot the lesson about the poor little mouse.”

“Sounds like she was as tenderhearted as your father, but couldn’t show it.”

“Yes. I hated losing them, but I was glad that they did not see the suffering that the last years of the war brought to us civilians. Hardship had taken a toll on my parents in the thirties, so by the forties they were exhausted and heartsick. I still needed them, but suddenly they were gone and my brother was in the service. They had given me a wonderful heritage, though, with the stability of a good family life, a love of the arts, and a faith in God. We were raised in the Lutheran Church, and sometimes I think that is all that got me through those difficult years.”

“I went to the Lutheran Church as a child, too,” he admitted in amazement that they had that connection, also. “It was my grandmother’s church. I never took catechism, though, so I’ve never become a member.”

“You really should. It is as important as education. We all need a faith to sustain us in this world. Sometimes, it is all that does.”

Yes, he could see that religion and education would be important cornerstones for a German. They were famous for both.

“So, if your parents were gone and you were alone, how did you manage in those last months of the war when the Allies were getting ever closer to Berlin and you had no one to protect you?”

Her eyes looked fearful, and he squeezed her hand.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It is okay.” She took a deep breath. “I was hungry. I traded, ah, favors to first the Nazis and then to the Allies.”

Alex drew back in disgust.

“Do not hate me! I had to survive!”

Alex leaned forward. “I don’t hate you. It’s those dirty bastards that took advantage of a child. Those are the ones I hate.”

“The Nazis were desperate. They knew their cause was crumbling and so was their world. The Allies were jubilant with victory and wanting to celebrate. I helped both camps, and they helped me. I could have slit their throats if I would have had the chance, but then I had still been hungry and without shelter. A dead person cannot provide for you.” She frowned. “My way of life finally caught up with me, and God punished me. I caught a disease that made me sterile. Nineteen, and I could never have children.” She covered her mouth with her hand while tears ran down her face. 

“That wasn’t God punishing you. He doesn’t work that way.”

She looked at him and a small smile crossed her face. “You have a wonderful faith, even if you are not in the church. What a comfort it must be to you.” 

In truth, Alex had stunned himself more than he had amazed her. Where had his words come from? 

“You know, some people believe that there are angels among us, Herr. But I go further than that. I think we are angels for each other. You were mine right now and Hans’s during the war.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he stammered.

“I do know,” she said softly. “Let me be comforted by your presence. Please?”

Alex took her hand again and held it for a long time. Forgotten was their beer or the crowds around them.

She continued her story. “So after awhile, after Hitler fell, I was a refugee with a mass of people who had joined together for protection. We were like a roving band of animals trying to stay alive. Slowly, the band began to sort itself out, and I realized that I was with people and not animals. There was a young man about my age named Frederic. He did not care about my background, because he had similar memories as mine.” She frowned. “Some of the soldiers had liked, ah, boys, and doing nasty things to them, sometimes just to hear them cry and beg for mercy. Frederic was frail and very pretty, so he was very popular with the Nazis. He had survived a lot longer in that sordid life than I had.”

“That’s terrible,” Bryant muttered.

She shrugged. “It was our life. Anyway, Frederic and I found each other. We married, gathered a couple of the children from our group, and formed a family. We wanted something, anything, that seemed normal. I was also trying to care for Annaliese until Hans could return. At times, she was not even rational, but I knew I had to keep her living for Hans. Sometimes I do not know how I did it, but I had learned a long time before that I could survive almost anything as long as I stayed living. I tried not to think about whether I liked myself or not. And then Hans returned. I cried in happiness for a week.”

“Did he know how bad your life had been while he was gone?”

“He did not at first. He was trying to help Annaliese and provide a home for my family. Only later did he piece my story together. And he hated himself for what I had suffered, just as I knew he would. I did not want him to feel bad about something that was not his fault. But, of course, he did.”

“What happened to your husband?”

“He worked for many years in the post office, and we had as good a life as postwar Germany could provide. We raised the two children as best as we could, but they had suffered emotional scars from the war.” She bit her lips together. “Theodor took his own life when he was eighteen.” She brightened. “Margret married and lives near Brussels. She has made me a grandmother twice now.”

“And Frederic?”

“He was getting frailer every year and finally succumbed to pneumonia. He had been plagued for years by nightmares. He would wake up screaming, and I would hold him until he quieted. Although he never said, I am sure I know what his nightmares were about. The Nazis and their depravity.”

“The dirty bastards,” Alex growled.

She patted his hands. “It is over. New cares concern us. That is what life is about.”

“You can’t tell me this isn’t Hell,” he mumbled.

“What?” she asked and a look of amusement crossed her face.

“This life. This is Hell. We weren’t just born here. We were kicked out of Heaven.”

“My word! You really do have to consider talking to a minister.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I get involved in other people’s stories.”

“Well, I guess you do. Either that, or there was something extra in your beer.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve been trying to give that up. Now you can understand why.”

She laughed and stood up. “Come on. Let us go to the Goethehaus, and you can let yourself be awed by the great man himself. Being around greatness always elevates the soul.”

Being around someone nice does, too, Alex thought, but decided not to embarrass her with the appropriate compliment.


	27. Music And Wiener Schnitzel

Helga Gruber smiled when she answered the doorbell to find Alex Bryant standing on the Hoffman threshold. “Will you come in, please? Terrible rain we are having, ja? But it will he good for the flowers.” She laughed lightly and stepped aside to admit him.

Bryant entered and tried to remain in one spot. “Sorry. I hope I’m not tracking.”

“It is not to be helped. It is quite a downpour. Here, let me take your raincoat.”

He shrugged out of the coat and shared some shuffling with Helga as he transferred the soggy coat to her. “Sorry,” he said with an unaccustomed grin as his wet hand brushed her arm.

The slight contact flustered both of them as they wrestled with the coat. Finally, he threw up his hands in defeat. “I give up! That coat is worse than any soldier I ever came across, be he German or American!”

Helga laughed. She was feeling good this evening. This dinner with the visiting American would be a good event. She so wanted a good evening for her big brother.

Alex watched as she hung the raincoat in the front closet. “Get many of these goose drownders?” he asked and realized that the question sounded inane, even to him. He just had to say something.

She didn’t seem to notice as she closed the closet door. “Occasionally.”

Alex became aware of music playing somewhere in the house. “Got the radio on?”

Helga looked puzzled and then she remembered. “That is Hans in the parlor. He is playing his concertina.”

Bryant frowned. “His, what? It sounds like an accordion with a head cold.”

Helga laughed. “It does, a little, I suppose. But do not let Hans hear you say that. Come, I will take you to where he is.” She led the way toward the parlor. “Hans is very serious about his music. He particularly loves his concertina.”

“What’s that song he’s playing? It sounds familiar.”

“The Carnival of Venice. He always said it was his and Annaliese’s song.” She knocked on the parlor door. “Hans, Herr Bryant is here.”

The music stopped. “Come in,” Hans called.

Helga opened the door and stood aside so Bryant could enter. 

“Good afternoon, Herr Bryant,” Hans said as he stood. “Come, sit down.”

“I will call you when the supper is ready,” Helga promised and shut the door.

Bryant settled in the big chair close to Hoffman. “Sorry to interrupt. Please. Go ahead. Play some more.”

Hans complied and for a few moments the men listened to the sweet, lilting melody.

“How lovely,” Bryant said as the last notes lingered in the air.

“Lovely, and sad,” Hoffman agreed.

“Your sister said that it was your song, yours and your wife’s.”

“We danced to it the evening we met,” Hans reminisced. “We danced to it on our wedding day. And on every anniversary afterwards.”

Bryant almost felt jealous that Hans had such wonderful memories.

Hans frowned. “I played it at her funeral.”

“Sorry.”

Hans stirred himself. “Not your fault.“ He set the concertina aside. “Shattered dreams and shattered lives. Not your fault. We dreamed too big. Our fault. The Allies crushed our New World. Your fault.”

“We helped you back on your feet,” Bryant pointed out.

Hoffman sighed. “And did it graciously.”

“The song you were playing--”

“Carnival of Venice.”

“Yes. With your memories, it is indeed sad.”

Hans picked up his concertina again. “If you want to hear something sad, just listen to this. Of course, it would probably sound better on an accordion, but I think you will get the idea.”

Long, sustained notes drew out with a haunting melody as if the tune was being pulled out of the instrument and each sound was heartbreaking. If a concertina could cry, then this one was having a mighty battle with itself to keep from bursting into tears.

It reminded Bryant of some song, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“I can see your confusion. Here, let me speed up the music.”

And then Bryant recognized it. The Beer Barrel Polka.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bryant muttered.

“I hope not,” Hoffman said as he set the instrument on the table again. “See, it depends on the interpretation. Played slowly, the Beer Barrel Polka is one of the saddest songs I know. ‘Roll, out, the, bar--rel,’” he sang softly. “’We‘ll, have, a, bar-rel, of, fun.’”

Bryant shook himself to cover the shiver he felt. He more than agreed with Hoffman.

“We used to march to it,” Bryant observed. He looked up. “Don’t you ever play anything that reminds you of good times?”

In answer, Hoffman picked up the concertina and played a chorus of ‘Roses of Picardy’.

“I remember hearing that on my grandfather’s crystal set out on the farm and later on the radio.” Bryant gave Hoffman a suspicious look. “Are you going to claim it’s a German song?”

“Of course not,” Hoffman said as he set his concertina down again. “It was written by a British soldier during the First World War, and British troops like to sing it.” He got a playful twinkle in his eyes. “But rumor has it that German soldiers during the Second World War liked to sing it, too.”

“And you like it because it reminds you of the time you were in the war?”

“I like it because it reminds me of my second wife.”

Bryant looked amazed. “You remarried?”

“Yes. While I was teaching at the University, I met a graduate student from the United States, from Milwaukee, a city renowned for its Germans and Scandanavians. She was doing research on Wagner, and her name was Eunice, Eunice Rose.” He shrugged. “So, you see, I think of her whenever I hear ‘Roses of Picardy.’”

“Not really.”

“Because that is what I would have liked to have given her if I could,” he carefully explained. “She taught me to want to live again, to wait eagerly for tomorrow, to hope.”

“Well, what happened? I don’t see her around here.”

Hans shrugged. “She finished her research. She structured her thesis and wrote her book.” He frowned. “And she went back to America.” 

“And she didn’t break your heart?”

“Oddly, no. Our relationship was too perfect to last. It was something ethereal and not of the everyday world. It was a brief respite, a picture of paradise that was too idealistic to last.”

“I never thought of you as the poetic type.”

Hans smiled. “I’m not. She simply had to move on. She is in your California now, teaching at Berkley. I thank her for the time she gave me, and I thank her for our son.”

“Your son?! You have a child?”

Hans smiled. “Yes. Peter. He’s fifteen.”

“Well, where is he? I don’t see him here, either.”

“He is with his mother and step-father and half-sister.”

“I’m sorry. You have a child? And you don’t see him? I’d think after losing Lisl, you wouldn’t let another child of yours get out of your sight.”

“No child could ever take Lisl’s place. Don’t misunderstand me. I love my son, and I see him frequently. He comes here on vacations and I fly over to see him.”

“You’ve been to the States?”

“Of course. Many times. You have no monopoly on America, Bryant.”

“So, you know my country better than I know yours.”

“I know yours differently. I’m not part of an invading army.”

Bryant ignored the remark. “You come through New York City?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I live in New Jersey. Just think, all this time, we’ve been that close and didn’t know it.”

“You have a big county, Lieutenant. I had no idea where you were in it, or even if you were there. I didn‘t know if you had lived.”

“I had no idea how small the European countries were until I got over here. Reminds me of New England. Drive fast and, Oops! There’s another one.”

At that moment a soft knock came on the door and Helga stuck her head inside. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but the supper is ready.”

Bryant pulled himself out of his chair. “This will be a real treat. A meal in a real home. Beats restaurant food every time.”

Later, as the three of them sat around the heavy dining room table eating wiener schnitzel and hot potato salad, Bryant couldn’t control a grin from spreading across his face. 

“Ah, Helga, our guest must be enjoying his food. He is smiling.”

“I see that, Hans. Thank you for the compliment, Herr Bryant.”

“It is good food, but you’ll have to excuse my poor manners. I was thinking of something else.”

“It was poor manners for me to notice,” Hans said graciously. 

“I was thinking of my Grandpa Houston and what he used to say about his in-laws. He said they were so German they had sauerkraut hanging out of their--” He glanced at Helga. “Sorry about my language, but that’s what Grandpa used to say.”

“You had German ancestors?” Helga asked.

Bryant could feel the tension in the air. “Yeah. Grandma Houston’s parents came over from Holstein. They had a lot of Nordic blood, too.”

“We had no idea.”

“Well, I’m kind of a mixture. Irish, English, German, American Indian.”

“How interesting,” Hoffman commented.

“We have mixed blood, too,” Helga explained. “You’ve heard of me speak of our grandfather down in the Tyrol. That was Mother’s side. She was Swiss and Austrian. Father’s people were from the Netherlands, Belgium, and Denmark.”

Bryant frowned. “Then where does the German come in?”

“Actually, just the name. I suppose there’s German blood way back, but not much in the present generations.” A new thought struck her. “You, with your set of great-grand-parents who emigrated, are at least one eighth German.” She wrinkled her brow, then looked at Bryant in amazement. “That means you are more German than we are!”

Both men looked startled, but Hoffman was the first to speak.

“Maybe you were fighting for the wrong side.”

“A lot of American boys had blood loyalties to Germany. I remembered one soldier whose parents had come over had left brothers and sisters behind. We used to holler at our buddy that his cousins were getting pretty vicious with their bombing. There was a big chance that his cousins could’ve been out there, too.”

“Well, this is all very interesting,” Helga said. “Shall we go into the parlor for awhile and continue our discussion?”

“What about these dishes?’ Bryant asked. “Can I help wash them up? I’m all thumbs in dishwater, but I’m pretty good at drying.”

“Nonsense! You gentlemen go ahead, and I will join you after I have put everything to soak. I will just be a few minutes.”

 

The men were smoking and quietly talking when Helga reappeared.

“Oh, good, you have not turned on that nasty television! I think it takes all the coziness out of an evening, ja?” Instead of waiting for an answer, she sat down at a dark upright piano and lifted the top off the keyboard.

Hans’s eyes lit up and he put his pipe down. “Ah, some music! How delightful!”

“Now, you are not going to get to just sit there, dear brother. You have to play, too. Get your concertina.”

Hans placed his hands on the front of his easy chair to push himself up. “Such a demanding person,” he said with good nature to Alex who smiled.

Hans and Helga played some sentimental old favorites while Alex stood behind the piano bench.

“Do you play an instrument, Herr Bryant?” Helga asked during a break.

“In high school I had a coronet, but I never got very good on it.”

“Oh, that is too bad. We could have a little band going with your help.”

“I wouldn’t be much help, I’m afraid.” He looked closer at something on top of the piano. “Are these your parents?”

Helga glanced up at the framed picture. “Yes. They look so stern, right? But they were not that way at all. We were a jolly family, were not we, Hans?”

“Ja. That was after the bad times. I think our parents tried to give us good memories and in the process healed themselves.”

“The bad times?” Bryant echoed.

“The First World War,“ Helga answered. “And the terrible influenza that followed it. We lost our older sister and a brother who was between Hans and me in age. He was just a toddler when he died.”

“I remember my grandparents talking about losing relatives and friends to that flu epidemic,” Bryant commented. Then he looked at another picture. “Who are those children?”

Helga smiled, but Hans said, “Oh, Helga, don’t get that old thing down. It would only bore our guest.”

“Nonsense, Hans. I think Herr Bryant would be interested in my baby picture.”

Bryant recognized Hans’s discomfort. Now he was curious. “Of course, I would.” He leaned closer so that he could look at the picture.

“Here, let me get it down for you,“ Helga offered as she reached up for the picture.

“That’s too far of a stretch for you while you’re sitting down,” Alex said and reached, also.

Their hands collided.

“Excuse me,” Alex apologized.

Helga brought her hand down, but Alex saw a brief glimpse of embarrassed confusion on her face before he lifted the picture and concentrated on it.

An infant and a boy about five years old were in the photograph. The baby was dressed in a cap and long flowing gown, and the boy wore a Tyrolean outfit of white shirt, black shorts, and knee socks. The youngster looked very focused on protecting his baby sister. Already he was showing his German determination.

“Why, Hans Deiter, I didn’t know you had such cute knees,” Bryant teased. “I do believe that they had dimples in them. Your mother must have loved that. She probably showed you off to all of the other mothers.”

“That‘s enough!” Hans slammed the photograph face down on top of the piano and tried to ignore Alex and Helga‘s grins that were given in good nature. He let them enjoy their jest, then he relaxed and looked smug. “Not bad, were they?”

Everybody laughed.

“On that note, I think I’d better be leaving,” Alex announced.

“Oh, must you go already?” Helga prompted as she got up from the piano bench. She was looking more alive and animated than usual.

“Yes, I’m planning on going back to my hotel and digesting that delicious meal. I’ve had a wonderful time. Thank you for inviting me. It was a pleasure being in a real German home.”

“It was a pleasure having you with us, Lieutenant,” Hoffman said pleasantly.


	28. Einbrechen

Bryant and Hoffman were sitting in the Hoffman’s parlor reminiscing about the day they’d first met.

“I was horribly lost,” Hoffman was saying. “How I had gotten separated from my men, I‘ll never know.” Hoffman held the teapot up. “More tea?”

“Please. Thanks.” Bryant added more cream. “I couldn’t believe it. There my prisoner was, incapacitated and out in no man’s land with bullets flying all around him. I started running toward you, even though my buddies were hollering for me to come back. It just didn’t seem right for you to die that way. So, out I took yelling for you to fall down.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Bryant bristled. “What do you mean I didn’t? I ought to know what I did.”

“You weren’t yelling ‘fall down.’”

“Huh?”

“Einbrechen. You were yelling einbrechen.”

Bryant frowned. “Einbrechen?”

“That’s right. Einbrechen. You were yelling einbrechen. Nightfall.”

Bryant felt a grin playing around his lips. “Nightfall,” he murmured. “I don’t remember yelling that. I just knew I had to yell something. No wonder you didn’t obey at first. You probably thought I was nuts.“

Hoffman’s own eyes were twinkling. “I knew it’d been a long time since I’d been blindfolded, but I didn’t understand what difference it made if it was night or day. In the panic of the moment and the newness of the language, you grabbed the first German word that had ‘fall’ in it. In this case, ‘einbrechen.’ Nightfall.”

“Humph!“ Bryant snorted and shook his head.

“I didn’t understand your words, but their meaning was clear. The urgency and fear in your voice is universal. I fell to the ground, and a moment later you dropped beside me and shoved my face into the mud.”

“At that point I didn’t want you to look up and get your fool head shot off,” Bryant growled.

“Then you ripped off my blindfold and I saw that it was indeed twilight. Nightfall. Einbrechen. I thought, how ironic that the American got that part right, although that fact should have had no bearing on our present situation.”

“I wondered why you had that stupid grin on your face.”

“I was not grinning.”

“Okay. But you were fighting it. And you definitely had a twinkle in your eyes. Just like now.”

“Sorry. Irony fascinates me.”

“We can laugh about it now. But back then you could’ve been killed. We both could’ve been. Hell, I could’ve shot you at any time, and nobody would have questioned it. Now, the only danger you have in getting killed is if I’d want to wipe that twinkle out of your eyes for good.”

“And if you did kill me right now, you would be prosecuted by the German government, the very Germany you fought against. And your American government would stand back, and let the German justice system be honored. You would pay for killing me. Now.”

Bryant frowned. “Crazy, isn’t it? Back then, they would‘ve given me a medal for it, and now--”

“Just another example of irony.” Hoffman pondered in silence for a few moments. “It’s a wonder either one of us made it back to safety that evening.”

“I was very good at crawling by that time.”

“Both of us were.” 

“I think I’d gotten to know a lot of French dirt pretty personally by then, and a lot more German was in my future.“

Hoffman nodded solemnly, and the two men were lost in thought as their individual memories of war experiences rolled across their minds.

“’Einbrechen’ for ‘fall down,’” Bryant muttered and broke the spell. “I don’t believe it.”

“It happened.“

“You must have thought I was crazy.“

“I had already thought that.“ He held up a hand to stop Bryant’s protests. “You could have killed me several times that afternoon, but you didn’t. I couldn’t believe my good luck and your generosity.”

“I didn’t know it, but the word had come down that we needed a high ranking German officer for a special project to rehabilitate the people. Even back then, the Brass was thinking about after the war. Your surrendering to me was a gift from Heaven to us.”

“As it was as much your good luck as mine. I had gotten separated from my men and knew I couldn’t fight alone. Then I saw you and took a chance. And you captured me, instead of shooting me. And then you risked your life to run out and save me. I realized my safety and life depended a lot on you. So I decided that I had to stay close to you until I could escape.“

“So you planned to escape.“

Hoffman shrugged. “That’s the duty of a good prisoner. But as the months wore along, it was becoming a gray area for me. The war was nearly lost and I knew that the German troops were low on supplies, especially food. I knew that I could at least eat around the Americans. In general, they were kind, especially to the civilians. I saw that my lot wouldn’t be too bad with them. I also knew you wanted me for your propaganda purposes.“

“Rehabilitation.“

“Whatever name you want to call it, it was the same. You were the victors and we were the vanquished. I knew that as much as I needed you, you and the other Americans needed me.” Hoffman’s eyes began to twinkle again. “But I made another decision that first evening after we got back to the safety of your troops. Something that would help the both of us.”

“What was that?” Bryant asked suspiciously.

“That I was going to have to learn more English. And that you were going to have to learn more German. A lot more!” He grinned and shook his head back and forth. “’Einbrechen’ for ‘fall down.’”

“I saved your fool life!” Bryant barked in defense.

Hoffman looked at Bryant and sobered. “Yes, you did. And risked your own for me. I never forgot that. I couldn’t. It didn’t make any sense. You intrigued me. And I also knew I was going to get the best treatment if you were around.”

“Then that’s why you got all huffy and demanded to be placed in my custody. Even when we got back to the safety of the American lines and Major Davis busted me to Private for disobeying orders, you dared to make your demands. I think I‘d scared the hell out of him and he thought it‘d be poetic justice if I had to guard you. At least I got my rank back.” 

“I got it back for you,” Hoffman corrected him. “And it was not the only time I did.”

Bryant was suddenly feeling defensive. He was amazed that the conversation had lost its friendliness. “But most of the time, it was your fault, anyway. If you wouldn’t have been tagging along, I would’ve never been in the position to lose my rank.”

“I’m glad I could be your scapegoat.”

“Whoa! What’s going on here? Suddenly you’re attacking me?”

“What do you want from me, Bryant?” Hans demanded in anger. “Haven’t you taken everything from me already?”

“Is that what the trouble is? I can understand that the old hurts are there. None of us will ever forget what we saw. But I want to know other things. I want to know your secret, how you could so meekly accept what was shoved in your face.”

Hans cooled and turned inward, away from the person chipping away at his defenses. “It was survival. When I surrendered and later when I helped with the orientation, I didn’t dwell on what I’d lost. I tried to see what I still had.”

“That was at first. But it caught up with ever you. You crawled into a dark hole and were willing yourself to die. I thought we weren’t going to get you back. You’ve learned a lot since then.”

“I learned it from you,” Hans said in a near whisper, and Bryant realized what a wrenching truth that was for Hans to share. Hans looked at Bryant with deep emotion on his face. “You wouldn’t let me die. For that, I am grateful. But the other, the humiliation of losing a war, the degradation of having my homeland overrun by an arrogant enemy, I can never forget. Or forgive. Not completely.”

Bryant blinked. “So you’ve hate me all this time?”

“What else could I do? You were the enemy.”

“But I saved your life.”

“I hated you for that most of all! Can you imagine how humiliating that was? To be grateful to a man who had conquered me?”

“You don’t seem to be someone who believed in Hitler’s ideas.”

“It was my country!”

“Then you weren’t a Nazi.”

In defeat, “No.” 

Smiling thinly. “I thought not.”

“Even now you are defeating me!”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just glad you really didn’t believe in him.”

“So I’m a humanitarian.”

Smiling. “Yes.”

“And a traitor to my country.”

Frowning. “No.” Thinking. “I guess. I don’t know. I just know I’m glad you didn’t go along with his insanity.”

“And what about the insanity of some of your leaders? You blithely go along with their agendas, and get thousands of your people killed. Do you know how crazy that seems to people outside your country?”

Frowning. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do know! You go along with it!”

“They tell us there’s reasons to stay in Vietnam. But we’re all so tired of it. It’s going nowhere. And it’s true. We’re losing thousands over there.”

“And ruining lives. Even if they return, the experience could scar their lives forever. And there will be a part of their innocent youth that they will never regain.”

“I guess.”

“Even the survivors are victims.”

Bryant frowned in thought.

“As we were.”

Bryant’s brow deepened.

“As we are, Bryant, as we all were.”

Bryant flinched. 

“Some things go too deep.” It was almost a whisper.

Bryant finally lifted his head, and his face was twisted in a scowl. “So what are you saying? That I was wrong to come here?”

“It might have been for the best if you had never found me again. We could have always just wondered about each other. But it was those people that we were for those few months back in 1944. We don’t have a present or a future, only a past.”

“I’d like to work on that future part.”

“Why? We have nothing in common.”

“We have that past you just mentioned. We were a team, Hans. I liked what we did together. We did good. And I liked doing it together with you. It wasn’t combat, but in many ways it had its dangers. And, doggone it, there were times we had fun.”

Hoffman grinned. “Ja. You were always getting in trouble for it, too.”

“I wasn’t the only kid out there.”

“There were times I forgot my situation,” Hoffman said meekly. “I forgot I was a prisoner and then almost a traitor.”

“We can adjust to about anything.”

“And part of the reason why I started to hate myself.”

“Why would you at all?”

“For compromising, for starters.” He frowned. “And there were other reasons, against you.”

“Oh?” 

“I said I trusted you.”

“Yes.”

“I also used you.”

“How?”

“You did not realize it, but you trusted me. And I used that faith in me to get privileges and better treatment.”

“So? That was pretty clever of you.”

“But I treated you like an idiot! In my own mind, I was taking advantage of you. It didn’t bother me at first, but later on I felt bad about it. And then you forced me to live and then stepped in front of a bullet for me. I felt like a real heel. How could I treat you like that? Someone who kept saving me? It was the darkest farce possible. All the idiots in the shadows were laughing hysterically, and I felt like joining them.”

“That wasn’t what bothered you about it.”

“Really? What then?”

“We had gotten to be friends, and that’s why you wanted to treat me better. All these years, and this guilt has gnawed away at you?”

“At first, after the war, it was a constant companion. Then, as with all things, I learned to live with it. New concerns came along, but it was always there in the background. It had become just a terrible regret, something that could never be corrected.”

“And then I returned.”

“And then you returned. I thought I could be non-committal, but that isn’t working. I need to apologize to you. I need to be rid of this guilt.”

“If it helps you, apology accepted. But what I really think will help you is if you admit that you wanted my friendship back then.”

“And now? What about our relationship now?”

“That’s what we’ve got to work on. I think it’s worth a shot, don’t you?”

Hoffman thought for a moment and then solemnly nodded. “Ja, Bryant, I think that it is.”


	29. Everybody Gets A Raw Deal

Alex walked into the American Express just in time to recognize his daughter walking away from a counter.

“Josie?”

The slender young lady with short dark hair looked around. “Dad?”

They embraced stiffly.

“Grandma Kate said that I might be running into you here in Frankfurt. I’m glad she told me an approximate date when you’d be here.”

He glanced at her backpack. “Are you enjoying your tour?”

“Yes, I am. Are you enjoying yours?”

“Yes. I guess in a way I am. Visiting the military cemeteries has brought back some bittersweet memories. The guys we left behind here were just kids, and life was over for them too soon.”

“Yes, I suppose it is sad,” she said absently as though she didn’t want to discuss anything too soul-searching with him.

“I understand you’re here with other people. Where are they?”

“Oh, around.” Then she brightened and grabbed the arm of a passing young man. “Dad, this is Eric. Eric, say hello to my father.”

Eric seemed distracted as he shook hands with Alex. Eric’s hand seemed clammy and boneless. Alex thought a man needed a firm handshake. Eric’s didn’t qualify.

“Eric and I are traveling together,” Josie announced as she hooked her arm through Eric’s.

Eric stared at her, then pushed his glasses up by flexing his nose. “That’s right,”  
he affirmed. “We’re seeing all the sights together. Are you touring, also, sir?”

“Sort of. I took part in the bloodbath in this corner of the world several years ago.” Alex wanted to shock the effeminate young man.

“Oh, that war is so passé,” Eric informed Alex. “People make too much of it. Hitler had some good ideas, in theory.”

Alex had meant to shock the boy, but Eric had shocked, and angered, him.

“But not in practice. The rest of the world didn’t like his picture of Utopia. If we wouldn’t have stopped him when we did, you kids would be goose stepping in school and dancing polkas at your proms.”

“That remains to be seen. He was never given a chance to explain himself.”

“Listen, he was never the poor, maligned, misunderstood underdog you think he was. He wasn’t piteously and meekly seeking a tiny shred of compassion--”

Josie grabbed his arm. “Daddy.” She’d been around her father enough to recognize his line of bullshit. And his bullshit with malicious humor behind it was one thing, but his bullshit along with anger could get dangerous.

“Interesting concepts, sir,” Eric was continuing. “however misguided.”

Alex knew if he heard one more word from Eric, he’d hit him. He got a wild-eyed, slapdash look on his face while he patted Josie’s hand on his arm. “Do you mind excusing us, Eric? I’d like to visit with my daughter, seeing as how we had to come all the way to Europe to be able to meet.”

Eric glanced at Josie, not quite sure what to do.

“Go ahead, Eric. I’ll catch up.”

“Well, don’t dilly-dally, Jose. We don’t want to miss the outdoor concert.”

Alex and Josie watched him walk away.

“That was rather rude, don’t you think?” she asked as she turned toward Alex.

“You bet. That little creep better watch where he talks that way about Hitler. A lot of guys would‘ve busted him right in his stupid mouth.”

“You! I meant, you! You were horrid!”

“And he wasn’t?”

“Perhaps. But I would expect better from you.”

He gave her an idiotic grin. “I’m the bungling parent, remember? I’m not supposed to know much about how real folks act. I don‘t come into the city right regular. We don‘t know nothing much about city ways, and how people act.”

 

“Oh, stop acting so stupid!”

“Well, I hope you act better than that young man. Talk about stupid. He’s going to get in a shit load of trouble if he spouts off that way about Hitler to too many people. I hope you’re acting smarter than your friend Eric is. He’s begging for trouble.” Then Alex decided to go right to his biggest problem with the present situation. He took a deep breath. “And I also think it’s a mistake for a young girl to go traipsing all over Europe.”

“Well, this is a fine time for you to start making noises like a father!”

“Well, excuse me, but that’s what I am! At least you know who yours is.”

“Oh, don’t start playing that old song again. The great moaning bastard child.”

“Well, it’s the truth. I never knew my father. And I think it’s because my mother wasn’t really sure which guy it was. I knew both of them, though, and they were both losers. But, in spite of that, they were both pretty damned good ol’ boys. One taught me to fight and to cuss, and the other one taught me to dance and to drive a semi. Even my stepfather, who most folks thought spent most of his time socializing with his farm animals, taught me to sing and to appreciate nature.”

“Lucky you! At least they spent time with you!”

“But I could never point at one of them and say, ‘This is him. This is my old man.’ They were like a bunch of uncles to me.”

“And you were like an uncle to me. An absent one.”

His temper simmered as he stared at her, and then he changed his mind about telling her something. She might hate him forever, but at least she‘d have something real to bellyache about. “At least you’ve always known about me. How would you feel if you’d just learned of my existence a few days ago?”

She seemed to pull back. “What do you mean?”

He dug a piece of paper out of his billfold and handed it to her.

“What is this? Who is this, ah, Celeste? Ah, Lebrun? With an address at some town in France?” She looked up.

“It’s near Nancy in the northwestern part of France.”

“And who is this Celeste? Ah--“ She consulted the paper. “Lebrun?” Josie stared at him.

“Your sister.” And just by saying it, Bryant’s anger cooled. He hadn’t meant to tell Josie this way. Hell, he hadn’t meant to tell her at all. It was none of her business, or so he thought. 

But now she had made it her business. Now she was going to hear some truths.

“Her mother’s name is Michelle. I met her when I was assigned at Nancy during the war. Women and girls were everywhere, and we were war-weary soldiers. Hell, we were more than that. We were young guys, and young guys are the same the world over. They‘re out looking for young women. And we found them. I wasn’t much older than you are now. And Michelle, well, she was a teenager. And naïve. And grateful. A lot of girls were grateful for being liberated, and we guys were happy to accept their thanks. It was like one big party, except with war and killing before and after. The army just moved on to the next area with grateful women. And a lot of the girls left behind were pregnant. Including Michelle. By me.”

“How did you know about this, ah, Celeste? Was she someone you always knew about, or did you just find out?”

“I’d given Michelle my home address. She used to write me and send pictures of our little girl. I sent money when I could until Michelle married a banker and gave Celeste a good home.”

“Did Celeste always know about you?”

“No. She thought her father was a French civilian killed in the war.”

“Was she surprised when she learned the truth?”

“Her mother and I told her a few days ago. She’s still sorting it out. But right before I left, she put her hand on my arm and said that she always had the feeling that her father was alive. She said that she had waited her whole life to meet me. She’s married herself and will make me a grandfather by the end of the year.”

“And you’re telling me this because of, why? Because of what you said? Because I should be grateful that I at least had always known you?”

“Partly. And partly because I think you two should meet. You have so much in common. An old man who was never there for you. You’ll have a field day together.”

“I’m supposed to be the bitter one here.”

“You don’t have exclusive rights to it. Hell, Life shafts all of us. You think you got a lousy father? A lot of people think that. They want someone perfect, and instead they get an ordinary human being, after all. A human being who is busy making a living and wishing he didn’t have all of his responsibilities. A human being with unrealized dreams of his own. A father might look like a grown-up, but inside is a disappointed person who still hungers for the things he never got as a kid. None of us are ever satisfied. None of us gets all that we ever wanted. And you want to know a secret? I think if we did get everything we ever wanted, we still would be disappointed. We all need something to wish for, to strive for, or life ceases being interesting to us.”

“A pretty speech. And it’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s supposed to stir up a little understanding and maybe a little compassion. I’m not a robot. I can’t be programmed to be the perfect father. And you know one reason why the robot father would fail? There’s no such thing as the perfect kid. So, we’re all in this mess together. All of us imperfect humans.”

“Another pretty speech.”

“If you’re trying to be ironic, it isn’t working.”

“Then try this out for irony. How many people out there could have the same blood that flows in my veins? Do I have other brothers and sisters in Europe and across the United States?”

“Maybe.” Thinking. “Probably.” Grinning wryly. “Surely!”

“And you’re proud of it!”

“Not really. Just honest. Look, I can’t apologize for the past. Nobody can. Life just happens in a topsy-turvy way. It’s like being a pinball in an arcade game, bouncing one way and then the other. And you’ve got to roll with the punches. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Never trust the person who says he’s won every fight he’s ever been in, because he’s a liar. Everyone comes away a little scarred by life. The best that you can hope for is that you’re honest and true to yourself and haven’t hurt the other guy too much. And don’t expect that the world is going to feel sorry for you just because you think you’ve gotten a raw deal. Everybody gets a raw deal, one way or the other. Just don’t let it show, or the world will recognize it as weakness and use that as an excuse to grind you into the ground. You’ve got to fight for what you want. And you’ve got to make it on your own and on your own terms, or you’ll never feel proud of yourself. Now, I know that I sound like I know what I’m talking about, and I do. It’s kind of a case of do what I say instead of what I did. I’ve got a thousand regrets, Josie, and I’m just starting to change them so that someday maybe I can feel good about myself. That’s what I’d like to say to you. I know you’ve been hurt by me, but don’t let that stunt your life. Hate me if you must, but not yourself. It’ll hurt me, yes; but it’ll hurt you more if you do. It’ll poison you and warp your life.”

“Why do you think something like that would happen to me?”

“Because it happened to my mother, and I can see you headed down the same road. She was always trying to please Grandpa and couldn’t. And in trying to cope with his rejection, she missed out on living. She spent most of her adult life bouncing around the country trying to find something she couldn’t identify and never feeling satisfied. I don’t want that to happen to you. You may think I don’t care what happens to you, but I do. Live your life. Make it a good one. Don’t waste it trying to prove something to me that can’t be proven. You don’t have to do that. I know I’ve told you a lot here today, but I think you‘ve got the grit to hear it. You‘re my kid, and my kid is tough. Just like her old man.”

“And I assume that this conversation is supposed to erase a childhood of neglect?”

Alex tried grinning. “Well, I was hoping that you’d have a little compassion for someone who isn’t perfect.” He could tell by Josie’s icy expression that neither the grin nor his attempt at humor was appreciated.

“What gives you the right to tell me I shouldn‘t be over here?” she asked. “Did you ever try asking, instead of telling?”

“I was just trying to protect you--”

Josie crossed her arms. “Well, guess what? I don’t need your protection.”

“But--”

“Supposing we just end this interview right now?”

“Alright. If that’s the way you want it.”

“That’s the way I want it. Goodbye, Father.”

Alex staggered away. She had never called him Father before. He shivered. The title left him feeling cold.


	30. What Every Stud Wants To Hear

“Why, Herr Bryant,” someone said with concern. “Whatever is the matter?”

With his head down, Alex had been careening along the city sidewalks with no regard for other pedestrians who either dodged him or risked getting jostled by him. But the compassionate voice and the hand on his arm stopped him, and he looked up with a blank stare into the woman’s face.

“Herr Bryant, are you alright?”

Then he recognized her. “Oh, Helga. I mean, Frau Gruber.”

“Helga is okay.” She searched his face. “You look like you have had a great shock.”

He took her arm and steered her toward an empty table at an outdoor restaurant. “Here. Let’s sit down and talk. I need to unwind.” 

He ordered beer for them and looked at Helga. “Are you sure you don’t mind hearing this?”

She shook her head, and he thought that her concern was genuine.

“Danka,” he said to the waiter as steins of beer were set in front of them. “I just had a run-in with my daughter.”

“Your daughter! But I did not know that you had a daughter, and that she was here. Where is she? Why have we not met her? Are you traveling together?”

He took her last question first. “No, we aren’t traveling together. And that’s the problem. She’s backpacking across Europe this summer. I knew that we’d both be over here this summer, but I just ran across her for the first time today. I have no idea where she is now. Probably with Eric, that smug bastard,“ he muttered. “Pardon my French, but I’m pissed. Pardon me again.“

“It is understandable. You are upset. What is your daughter’s name?“

“Josie. Josephine, after my ex-wife’s mother.“

“A noble name. Josephine was a renowned beauty and very influential. Your daughter has a rich legacy.“

“Well, just so she has some sense to go along with it. She’s got a year of college behind her, so she thinks she’s got the world by the ass and can do what she wants. Thinks she wants to see and experience her cultural heritage in Europe, to quote her. She wants to see where it all happened, the events in her history books. She wants to see the dramas and paintings and sculptures she‘s only read about.”

Helga smiled indulgently. “And her father is worried about her.”

“Hell, yes, I’m worried! She’s naïve about the world. I was young once. I know what guys her age have on their minds, and it sure as hell isn’t culture!”

“Have faith in her. She was raised right. She has your values.”

He smirked. “As I was saying--”

“Your wife’s values, then. If your daughter is in college, she has above average intelligence. She will not set out to deliberately ruin her life.”

Like her grandmother Doris did, Alex wondered, but did not say it out loud.

“And I think you are mistaken about not giving your daughter any good values. In these last few days since I have known you, I have seen a person who has a lot of goodness in his heart. Other people can see it even if you cannot. That is what my brother instinctively recognized in you. And then to go talk to his countrymen the way he did is extraordinary beyond words. You have to realize what a bold move that was for Hans. He is ordinarily shy around people. Apparently, your presence gave him the confidence to do the work. You brought out the best in him. Did you know that about yourself?”

The blatant praise made Alex uncomfortable. Now what did she want? 

“Your appearance has been a godsend. I have not seen my brother this responsive in a long time. He does not make friends easily.”

“And you think I do?” He saw her flinch. “Sorry. I’ve got a big mouth.”

“I do not know why you need to act that way.” She tried to keep her own anger under control. “Am I a threat to you?”

“Of course not.”

“You do not want people to get too close to you, do you?”

“It helps simplify relationships.”

She studied him. “How very sad you are.”

“I didn’t ask for sympathy. Sorry if I‘ve ruined your afternoon,” he growled as he jumped up from the table.

Helga jumped up, too, and grabbed his arm. “Wait! Do not leave. I am afraid you will disappear just as suddenly as you appeared.” She released his arm and looked down. “And my brother will be lonelier than before.”

Bryant felt like he was getting in too deep and wanted to distance himself from the Hoffmans. “Listen, lady, I’m not here to do missionary work! I just wondered what became of him. That’s all! I’ve satisfied my curiosity.”

Helga looked up with a sad look on her face. “And now you will leave? What are you so afraid of? He is just one little man. He can hardly bring harm to you.”

“But I can bring harm to him,” Bryant whispered. “Don’t you think I can see how fragile he is? I don’t want to jeopardize the balance he has in his world. But I could. I poison anyone who is good to me and turn them against me. I’m rotten.”

“No, you are not!” She grabbed his arms and forced him to look into her eyes. Where once had been milky blue irises were flashing turquoises. “You are a good person! You saved my brother’s life, and to me that makes you a saint.” Her adamant emotions made her bold and she pulled her arms around him. “Oh, Alex, be kind to yourself. Stop building a wall around yourself to keep people away.”

“I’ve been wanting to change. I thought coming here was a step in the right direction.”

“Oh, it is! You and Hans were important to each other once, and you can be again. I know he has begun to look forward to your visits. That tells me that you are good for him.”

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to accept her truth.

And he also liked being in her protective arms. He wasn’t a toucher, but this felt so natural and so right. He clung to her and didn’t want to let her go.

“And I have learned to look forward to your visits, too,” she murmured. “I feel excited about life again. You make me feel pretty.”

“But you are pretty,” he murmured back. He pulled her closer. “And inside, you are beautiful. More beautiful than this world deserves. Especially me.“ Then his words were coming in a hurried rush before common sense took over again and he came to his senses. “Come back with me to my place,” he whispered into her messed up hair and realized he’d messed it up. “I don’t want to be alone right now. No, it’s more than that,“ he admitted. “I want to be with you.”

She pulled back from his embrace, looked up with frightened eyes, and nodded. “I want to be with you, too.”

He pulled her back into his arms. They were overwhelmed by the enormity of what they were planning, but were powerless to break away from each other.

Alex took Helga’s hand and led her to his apartment.

They couldn’t go back to her house. HE was there.

 

“What will you tell Hans Deiter about your overnight absence?” Bryant asked the next morning. “I never thought that he might’ve been worried about you.”

“Sometimes I stay with a friend Anna on the other side of town. He knows that was where I probably was.”

“How convenient. Does he have a friend, let’s call him Otto, that he visits without telling you?” He could hear the bitterness in his own voice.

“We are both grown people. We have each been married. We are not children.”

“I just thought it might be considerate to leave a message, so the other person doesn’t worry.”

“That is why we do what we do. So the other person does not worry.” She put her face in her hands and moaned. “Oh, why does it matter to you? It is not your life.”

No, it wasn’t. And the sharpness of that reality stabbed him with a pain that surprised him. The Hoffmans had become a part of his life in the last few days, and he was suddenly realizing how much they mattered to him. He didn’t know if he particularly liked that. On the other hand, he didn’t know if he could walk away from them and tell them goodbye, either.

In the critical glare of the unforgiving morning light, Helga covered herself with the sheet and looked down in what Bryant could only interpret as shame.

“Was I that bad?” he asked.

Helga looked up and that magnificent hair swirled around her faded face. But what he really noticed were the tears sprinkling her eyes.

“It is not that. I simply wonder about your real purpose.“

“I told you. I didn’t want to be alone.“

“Are you sure?“ She stared at him pointblank. “You did that to me because you cannot do it to my brother, did you not?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Bryant frowned and sucked his breath in from the implications of her words. “What the hell-- It was never that way with him and me! Never!”

“It must have been how he felt, though. He had prostituted himself to live. It is how we felt after the war when we were occupied. We felt common and used and needy. We were begrudged the simplest necessities. Charity only helps the giver to feel good, never the receiver.”

“I must’ve really been bad.”

“No, no, you were not. You were kind and gentle. Perhaps even nicer than you had intended. And that is what hurts. I should not feel this special.”

“But you are special. Helga, you’re a very special person.” And Bryant realized that it wasn’t his usual off-handed compliment that he generally gave without a second thought. He truly meant the words. “But what a load of crap you’re carrying around. I know any one of a dozen psychiatrists who would love to get a hold of you. The war’s over, honey. It‘s long past the time to be letting it rule you.”

Her eyes looked haunted. “For some of us, it will never be over. The scars are too deep. Hans and I lost our parents and his wife and daughter. And I lost so, so much.” 

“I lost people I loved, too. I’ve got buddies in American cemeteries scattered all over France and Germany. That’s some of the places we veterans have been visiting. No, we’ll never forget. But we’ve moved on.”

“It was not in your homeland!” Her voice was low, but forceful. “Oh, just get out of here,” she demanded in frustration and pointed at the door. “Leave me alone.”

Bryant wanted to remind her that they were in his hotel room, not hers. But he figured rightly that she wasn’t in the mood for logic just then. He pulled on his clothes and left.

 

When Bryant appeared at the Hoffman home the next afternoon, Hans was not home.

“He has gone to the university,” Helga answered wearily as she stood inside the front door with it open just a crack. 

“Then I’m coming in.” He pushed the door in and shut it behind him.

“Please, Alex. You should not be here. With me. Alone.”

He stepped toward her. “I’ve been a jerk. I’ve come to apologize. I‘m sorry.”

“Alright. Apology accepted,” she said, managing to keep her voice steady. “Now, you must leave.” She walked around him and opened the door. “I will tell Hans that you called while he was out.” She stared at the doorjamb.

He shoved the door shut and she looked up startled.

“I think you didn’t believe my apology.”

“But I did--”

He started to put his arms around her.

“Please. There is nothing for us.”

“I happen to think there is.” He settled her against him and he relaxed. He felt at home. “Let me prove it. Which way is your bedroom?”

 

“You were very sweet.”

An ironic smile pulled his lips back in a snarl. “Yeah, that’s what every stud wants to hear. That he was sweet.”

“But you were!” She patted his hand and smiled softly. “It was a beautiful apology, not just to me but to my brother.”

Bryant frowned. “Now you’ve lost me.”

“You came here not only to find my brother, but to apology to him. You have felt guilty all these years for what you considered were wrongs to him.”

He didn’t even challenge her, for suddenly he realized she was right.

“And now it’s more personal. This time I’m jeopardizing not his homeland, but his sister. Now he’s the third man in the ring, if he finds out.” He frowned. “Or are you?“ He shook his head. “I don‘t know if I can do this to him.”

“Forget Hans,” she urged as she snuggled against him. “It is just us. For just this little while, it is only us.”

He wanted to believe her as he pulled his arms around her again.

 

“It is getting late. Hans will be home shortly,” she said later.

“Meet me at my place tonight,” he urged her. “Tell Hans Deiter that you have to visit Anna again.”

Her only answer was a giggle and to show him the delighted face of a child.

He could used to that response.

 

She didn’t ask him to leave the next morning.


	31. Such A Little Scene

“It’s a pleasant day out,” Alex commented as he set his cup of coffee down and glanced at the linden trees that Helga had taught him to appreciate. He and Hoffman were seated at the sidewalk café that Alex had begun to think of as his and Helga’s.

“Ja, that it is,” Hans replied. “And the company is pleasant, too.”

Alex grinned at him. “My, you’re in a mellow mood today.”

“Why not?” Hans answered with an indulgent smile. “Gott has created a wonderful world and not much could happen today to spoil it.”

“You shouldn’t go tempting the gods, Hans Deiter. That’s when they take a particular delight in bursting your balloon.”

“Oh, Bryant, you are a pessimist!” Hoffman said jovially.

“No, I’m just a realist. You watch. Any moment now, some god or goddess will come along with a very sharp pin.”

“Well, hello, there.”

Startled, the men looked up and stared at the young woman who had seemingly materialized out of nowhere before them. 

“Josie?” Alex pushed his chair back and stumbled to his feet.

Hoffman awkwardly followed, but his standing was from politeness and not the obvious shock and confusion on Alex‘s face.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen” Josie glanced at Hoffman and then back at Alex.

“Ah, Josie, this is Herr Hoffman.” He nonchalantly motioned toward Hoffman. “Hans Deiter, this is my daughter.”

Hoffman’s eyes brightened with interest. “Your daughter? I did not know that your daughter was here in Germany. Or that she was so pretty.”

Josie gave him a smile of appreciation.

“You‘ll have to look quick,” Alex continued. “Hard telling how much of her time she‘ll give us.”

Father and daughter exchanged pointed looks.

“Fraulein Bryant, it is an honor.“ Hoffman shook the hand that Josie offered, then kissed it solemnly.

Josie’s left hand flew to her throat, and she smiled warmly. “Why, Herr Hoffman, how continental! I thought only the French kissed a lady’s hand.”

“Many Europeans do. It is something that the French happen to do very well. The rest of us cannot be less gallant, can we?’

“Of course not,” she answered, enthralled with him.

“Will you do us the honor of joining us?” Hoffman asked as he pulled out a chair for her.

“Well, thank you!” she gushed as she flounced herself down, and Hoffman shoved the chair in. “Daddy, wherever did you ever meet such a delightful person? I didn’t know that you knew anybody in Germany.”

“It’s a long story,” Bryant growled. He was halfway wrangled that Josie and Hoffman had so immediately taken to each other.

“I’ve got all afternoon,” she announced with a bright smile at both of them.

“What about your friend? I see him lurking over there by the magazines.”

“Eric? Oh, he’ll keep himself busy.” She placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Now, I want to know all about you two. How did you two meet?”

“It’s goes back to the Second World War,” Alex answered. “A bunch of us are back here for a reunion.”

“Herr Hoffman was an American soldier?” she asked in confusion. “And then came back to Germany to live after the war? Because he, what? Liked Germany better than America? And you met up again with him because you were war buddies?”

“Whoa! Whoa! You should be a writer. No, none of that is true. See what I mean, Hans Deiter? The speed of a galloping race horse.”

“She is delightful,” Hans answered with a warm smile. He took Josie’s hand again. “You must have a beautiful and charming mother. And I believe that you took after her completely.”

Josie patted his hand. “Why, Herr Hoffman! Is that something else you learned from the French?”

“I cannot ignore what my eyes tell me, Fraulein.”

Josie’s eyes sparkled. “And I thought the Irish were the only ones gifted with the blatant use of blarney.”

“But, Fraulein, It is not blarney when it is the truth.”

“Daddy, you’ve kept Herr Hoffman to yourself entirely too long! You must learn to share someone as utterly charming as he is!”

Josie and Hoffman smiled fondly at each other.

“All right, you two!” Bryant interceded with a scowl. He was starting to feel like he was in the way. “Josie, the waiter is here. Do you want something to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having, please,” she answered.

“Coffee,” Bryant said to the waiter. “With milk.”

“Daddy! You remembered.”

“I’d rather you were drinking just milk,” he growled. “But I guess I have to make some concessions. You‘re not eight years old, anymore.”

“That’s right. If I’m backpacking across Europe, I’m surely old enough to be drinking coffee.”

Hoffman looked troubled at Josie. “Is that wise?”

“Oh, I know that coffee isn’t the greatest thing in the world for me, but I like it.”

“No, I mean backpacking across Europe.”

Bryant just barely stopped his grin, but Josie saw the twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh, brother, now I’ve got two fathers!”

Bryant inclined his head toward Hans. “Thank you.”

The waiter set a cup of coffee in front of Josie. “Danka,” she said.

“Oh, you’re talking German now?” Bryant asked.

“Twenty words does not a linguist make. No, I probably know more than that. I’ve studied your old German books that you had stored at Mother‘s. And being over here forces a person to learn the language fast, but you probably already know that.”

The two men glanced at each other.

“It’s the quickest way to learn,” Bryant agreed.

“A good teacher helps, too,” Hoffman contributed.

Josie saw her father roll his eyes. “Did Herr Hoffman teach you German?”

“Sort of,” Bryant answered. “And I taught him some English.”

“Sort of,” Hoffman teased. “Especially expletives.”

“Expletives?” Josie questioned.

“Don’t asked,” Bryant answered.

Josie looked confused.

“Cuss words,” Hoffman answered. 

“Oh, those kinds of expletives,” Josie said with understanding.

“They should never be brought into the conversation when a lady is present,” Hoffman said with all his charm to Josie. “But you probably know what they are without their being brought into the conversation. You have been around your father enough to know what his favorite expletives are.”

Josie stiffened. “Actually, I’ve never been around him that much.”

Bryant pursed his lips.

“You’ve probably been around him more than I have, Herr Hoffman. My father didn‘t live with us when I was growing up. We didn‘t see him too often.”

“Josie,” Bryant said, and nobody could tell if it was a reprimand or a plea.

Josie sipped her coffee, then set her cup down. “So, how did you two meet?”

“Over the barrel of a gun,” Bryant muttered.

Josie’s eyes widened. 

Hoffman rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.”

“So, who was holding the gun?” Josie asked.

“I was,” her father answered. “He was a German soldier I came across.”

“You met in battle?! And neither one of you was killed!?”

“I was not in battle, Fraulein. I surrendered to him. So I would not get killed.”

“And you trusted him not to shoot you?”

Hoffman glanced at Bryant. “Yes.” He looked at Josie. “I instinctively knew that I was safe with him. He protected me. I always knew that he was a good man.”

“Wow! You know a side of him I don’t.”

“Josie, this is not the time to go into our differences. Hans Dieter is not interested in our dirty laundry.”

“Why not, Daddy? He is obviously a friend of yours. And as your friend, he is interested in anything about you.”

“We’re not really friends. I haven’t seen him since I got back from the war.”

“But I thought--” she said in confusion. “The way you two acted. You seem so comfortable around each other.”

“That’s because we spent so much time together during the war.” He glanced at Hoffman. “We got shoved into doing something that made us have an uneasy truce.”

Hoffman nodded, and Josie studied both men with intense interest. They had her attention.

“What do you know about policies after the war?” Bryant asked Josie.

“The Allies split Germany up. The Russians took their part and made East Germany out of it, They made it a satellite of the Communist Regime. They’ve even partitioned Berlin with the Berlin Wall. But the other Allies were interested in snuffing out Nazism, helping people get back on their feet, and bringing Germany back into a worthwhile position in the economic marketplace. They encouraged Democracy.”

“I’m glad your history and economics courses soaked in, Josie. And, yes, that was the plan. That’s what Hans Deiter and I did. It was sort of a public relations program with Hans Deiter as the front man and I as his escort and protector.”

“We both wanted Germany to return to grandeur,” Hoffman added.

“So that’s what you did in the war.”

“Not at first. Just at the end. I spent plenty of time on the battlefield.”

“That’s how you got shot?”

“No, I got shot protecting him.” He nodded at Hoffman. “Some of his own men thought he was being a traitor by going along with the Allied plan. The Germans didn’t understand that he was being a bigger hero by trying to help his country recover from the war. Anyway, they took a potshot at him and got me instead.”

“He stepped in front of the bullet,” Hoffman added.

“I was trying to shove you aside. I wasn’t trying to be a dead hero.”

“Anyway, he saved me. He saved me several times.”

Bryant waved the remarks away. “Let’s not go into that now.”

“All right,” Hoffman conceded. “But you need to tell your daughter sometime. She needs to understand that you are held in high esteem by some people.”

“All right, all right, but not now.”

Josie realized that her father was embarrassed by the praise. That amazed her.

“So how did you manage to do this rehabilitating?” she wanted to know.

“We went around the countryside to towns and little villages and big farms, anywhere we could get a crowd together to listen,” Alex explained. “We generally had at least two soldiers with us for protection. They’d be in the back of the jeep. I’d drive and Hans Deiter sat up front beside me. We were perfect targets, but we knew the only way our plan could succeed was to be seen. I felt like a duck in a shooting gallery, and I expect he did, too. But he tried to act like it didn’t bother him. Anyway, there he sat, straight and tall beside me, like he had an iron poker crammed up his--” He glanced at Josie’s rapt face and Hoffman’s sudden look of disapproval. “--the backside of his uniform.”

“Wow! That’s an amazing story! It should be written down. And maybe I will. Did I tell you that I’m going to be a journalist?”

Bryant blinked. That was the most she’d ever shared about her future plans.

“So, where did this all happen?” she asked eagerly. “Where you guys were doing all of this rehabilitating?”

“Nancy. Metz.” Bryant glanced at Hoffman. “Heidelberg.”

“I think I’d like to see those towns. We’re headed south to Nancy, anyway.” She smiled at her father. “There’s somebody down there I want to meet.”

Bryant smiled and patted her hand. 

“I might as well go to those other cities,” she continued. “I understand they’re beautiful places.”

“Now they are,” Bryant answered “Now the German and French country sides have healed. They didn‘t look like much when I first saw them.”

“Where all were you during the war?”

“Normandy. Northeast France. Southwest Germany.” Bryant shifted uneasily. “Why are you so interested in all of this now?”

“Maybe because we’re here where it all happened.” She looked at her father sharply. “Maybe because this is the most you’ve ever talked about your time over here.”

“Soldiers generally don’t like to talk about what happened during their time in the service. Besides,” he said as he returned her sharp look. “This is the first time you’ve ever been this interested in what I had to say.”

“Maybe this is the first time you’ve taken the time to talk to me. I am interesting, you know.”

“I am interesting, too, you know,” he retorted hotly and hated that they seemed destined for an argument, right here, right now, despite their audience. Prudence be damned. Hans Deiter was going to hear a shit load, whether he wanted to or not. Alex and Josie were baiting each other and both snapping eagerly at the lures. 

Hoffman started to push back his chair. “Perhaps I should give you two some privacy.”

“No!” they both demanded, and Hoffman settled uncomfortably back into place.

“Please, Hans Deiter, I‘d appreciate it if you stayed. I think we might need a referee.” 

“Alright, Bryant, but I have something to say to your daughter.” He turned to Josie. “Fraulein, the time I was with your father was concentrated over only a few months, and I take it that you saw him at scattered times over many years. Both types of experiences can be very rewarding and yet very frustrating. I suppose we both have come away from him with the simultaneous urges to throttle him in frustration and to embrace him with a savageness because we wanted his attention. You want to be with him because you really feel alive with him, but you wonder if he even realizes that you are present. But you do not care because you are willing to take the crumbs of himself that he allows you to take away from your time together. You want to be as special to him as he is to you, but you know that will never happen. So you decide to protect yourself by staying away from him, but the only one you hurt is yourself because he is indifferent. Shakespeare said it is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all, but he did not know your father. He might have come up with a different quote to explain him.”

Both Bryants were staring at Hoffman with open mouths. They suddenly understood each other and each other’s motives more than they had ever done so before.

“So, Herr Hoffman, do you love him, or hate him, or do you try to stay indifferent to him?”

“All three.”

“My mother said he was an indifferent, uncaring cold fish.”

Hoffman looked at Josie. “Poor lady! How she must have loved him. How frustrated she must have been.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Bryant protested. “I love people.”

“Yes, you do, Bryant. In your own way.”

He looked at Josie. “Is this really necessary now?”

“Yes, because we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“By we, do you mean Eric?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yes, I do. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Look, I’ve done a lot of thinking since our first talk. I’ve been unfair.”

Bryant’s eyes widened. “Well.”

“I haven’t changed. You have. Dad, there’s hope for us yet. The father I’ve always known wouldn’t have taken the time to talk to me the way you did the other day. I appreciate what you said. You treated me like an adult. More importantly, you acted like I was somebody worth taking time to know and to care about. It made me think that you might love me, after all.“

Bryant frowned. “Christ, Josie, I’ve always loved you! You‘re my child!“

Tears formed puddles in her eyes. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to know. I hope we can have more discussions like the last two in the future.”

Bryant blinked. “That’s it? You aren’t going to shout from the rooftops that I’m insensitive and uncaring?”

Josie laughed, and Alex saw her for the confident, mature woman she was. “How can I say that when I know it isn’t true? I think that’s all Grandma ever wanted to know, too, don’t you?”

Bryant nodded, because he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Well, I need to go find Eric and the others now.”

“The others? I didn’t know there were others.”

“Of course, there are others. I just implied that Eric and I were traveling together the other day to rile you, and I did. Daddy, Eric and I are looking for the same things in Europe: ancient culture, picturesque scenery, and hot boys.” She winked.

Alex looked startled, then grinned. “Are you saying I should test the waters before leaping in with both six-shooters blazing?”

She grinned back. “Something like that. But, in a way, it was kind of sweet. I like knowing that I‘ve got an old fashioned, caring father, after all.” She placed her hand over Alex’s and squeezed. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“One other thing, and I mean this in his best interest. Your buddy Eric better watch what he says about Hitler, or he’s going to find his ass on the moon. Somebody’s going to kick his ass up that high or hit him in the face. Not everyone is as tolerant or as easy going as I am.”

The moment of startled silence was interrupted by laughter from three people.

Josie wiped happy tears from her eyes. She was glad that Alex had erased the last traces of tension between them with a joke. “Well, I must be going.“ She turned to Hans. “It was nice to meet you, Herr Hoffman.”

“The pleasure was mine, Fraulein.”

“Sorry for the scene.”

Hans patted her hand and gave her an indulgent smile. “Such a little scene. I barely noticed.” He looked wistful. “I never had the chance to have such a scene with my daughter.”

Josie looked puzzled.

“Hans Deiter’s daughter died in the war.”

Josie bit her lips together. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry for your loss.”

“It was a long time ago.”

Josie looked pointedly at him. “But the pain is still fresh.”

Hoffman nodded. “Ja.”

 

Josie left soon after that, but she and her father both felt they had entered a new phase in their relationship. At least they had a relationship now. And they both felt refreshed because of it.

 

“I‘m sorry for the scene, too, Hans Deiter.”

“I’m not. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of the healing between you and your daughter. I feel very privileged to have been allowed to be here with you. It shows how very much you trust me.”

And he was right. Only a few other people would have ever been allowed to see Bryant as exposed as he’d been with Josie. Always Maw. Maybe Sandra. Probably Helga. And now, of course, Josie.

“And now maybe you understand how very much I trusted you, Herr Bryant. After all, I trusted you with my life, and I was never mistaken about that trust. I believe that I always understood that better than you did.”


	32. No Way To Say Goodbye

“My brother is starting to care about you again, about the person you are now,” Helga said as she walked with Alex along a quiet residential street near her home. “It has nothing to do with what you two were to each other during the war. This is now.”

She noticed that her analysis seemed to disturb him.

“What is wrong? You do not want your relationship with him to get too personal?”

“It‘s not that. I don‘t want to disappoint him.” He glanced at her. “Or you. And I could. Neither one of you should put too much stock in me. I don‘t live up to people‘s expectations very well.”

“Such a fatalist!” she chided him. 

He looked down the street. “What can I say? I’m German.”

“I think you are newly proud to be that, ja?”

He looked down at her with a tolerant grin. “Ja, I guess I am.”

She playfully punched his arm. “Do not mock me.”

“But it’s so much fun!”

“Oh, Alex, I do love being with you.”

He sobered. “Yeah, me, too. Love being with you. Not love being with me.”

“You are being silly today.”

“I am being silly to keep from screaming. Or bawling.”

She pursed her lips. “Me, too.”

He took a deep breath. “Oh, Helga, what kind of crazy Wagnerian opera are we in the middle of?! I came to Europe for an Army reunion, and now I’m involved in a mess.“ 

“My, how flattering. Now I am a mess.“

“I said, in a mess. Not with a mess.“ Then he looked down at her and grinned. “Now, you’re mocking me, aren’t you? What’s wrong? Am I being too serious?” 

“Just a little bit, ja,” she said gently.

“You should be the one whose protesting. I dragged you along. You don’t deserve to be down here in the muck with me. But that’s what I do to people. It‘s my specialty.”

“Maybe I want to be wherever you are, Alex. Did you ever think of that?“ She studied him for a moment. “You are a sad man. You prefer to live on the edges of life.“

“I think a lot of people do,“ he muttered. “It’s safer.”

“Perhaps. But surely it cannot be very satisfying. That is why you treated Hans the way you did during the war, is it not? You wanted to protect both of you, but in the process you hurt him far worse than anyone ever has. Have you ever realized how you were able to do that?” 

He stared down the street without seeing. “Yeah, I think I have. But I think I disappointed him. I gave him everything he wanted from me, except my friendship.”

“No, Alex, you gave that to him, too,” she said gently. “But you would not admit that you were friends. And that is how you hurt yourself, too. How much better if you would have just enjoyed the time you had together.”

“We did. There were times I‘d forget.”

“I know, but you felt guilty because you thought you should not be friends with the enemy. You were helping each other through a bad time. You leaned on each other, and that was okay. But you thought it was not okay.”

“And now he’s indifferent to me. And I don‘t blame him.”

“He loved you once, Alex. He will again. My brother has a kind heart, even if he is German. You know, I asked you once why you came here, and I think it was to find something good that you have done in your life. You are disappointed in yourself, but my brother being alive makes your life worthwhile.”

Her probing into his deepest being was making him uncomfortable. “That’s quite a diagnosis. How many medical degrees do you have, Frau Doctor?” He felt her hand stiffen on his arm and cursed his spiteful tongue.

She blushed and looked down. “Now you are ridiculing me.”

“You’re right.” He grimaced. “And I’m a horse’s back end.”

“I do not think so. I think I just struck a nerve too close to the surface.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You are also a very gentle man. I bet you did not know that about yourself, either.”

And he bet she didn’t realize how naïve she seemed to someone as jaded as he was. As Bryant looked at the trusting face shining up at him, he thought how wonderful it would be to deserve the faith she had in him.

He had to get out of her life for her own good.

“I don’t want to hurt you or your brother. That’s why I think we should have a clean break and go our separate ways.” He saw the bewilderment in her eyes. “Look, we knew nothing permanent was going to come of this.” 

She pulled back. “This, what? This tryst?” Said that way, it turned their time together into something almost cheap. 

He could see indignation in her face. He’d expected her to be meek, but her eyes were flashing in anger. He was intrigued. He didn’t know this side of her. He wanted to learn more. Maybe there was more to her personality than he’d originally thought. Maybe it would take the rest of his life to learn all about her. 

But they had no future. Only a present that wasn‘t going to last.

Now he simply wanted to reassure her. “No, it was something better than that, better than a tryst.”

“What then? What would you call it?” 

What, indeed? He could not answer her. 

How could he talk of love and of a tomorrow for them together when he didn‘t believe it was possible himself? How could he give in to his fondest dreams and have her forever with him? With his inclinations and track record, how long would that forever be? How could he avoid hurting this gentle soul? How could he ease that haunted look in her eyes?

“Let’s not quarrel,” he said. “Please? That’s no way to say goodbye.” 

She didn’t realize it, but he was thinking also about another Hoffman and about another moment when it was time for them to part. Why was he always separating from these people?

 

At her home, he left her with a mumbled farewell. “I’ll be around to say goodbye before I leave.“

She watched him walk away with the feeling that he had already said goodbye to her. And they both knew it.

 

“So you are leaving us soon?” Hoffman asked.

“Yes. I need to get back home,” Bryant answered.

The two men were sitting in the flower garden behind the Hoffman home. It was very pleasant with the birds singing and the wind gently rustling through the tree leaves.

Bryant felt that everything had been said that could be and that nothing had been said that should be. He needed to broach the issues that had brought him here. Time was running out. If only Hoffman had the right words, but he had been maddeningly distant with Alex. And even if Hoffman did, he wasn’t sharing.

He plunged in. “Hans Deiter, I want to apology.”

Hoffman looked up in surprise. “For what?”

Bryant played with his tea cup. “For what I did, and didn’t, do twenty-five years ago.” He squinted in the sun as he looked at Hoffman.

“That was a long time ago. It is in the past.”

“It isn’t for me. The past won’t leave me alone. I thought I’d buried it, but lately it’s come back to haunt me. I need to correct it.”

“So I am to hear you out and forgive you for something I have tried to forget?”

“I hope so.”

“Lieutenant,” he started and Bryant noticed the slip into the past. “You made the rules back then, and you are trying to make the rules now. Why should I allow that?”

“Because you want to?” 

Hoffman ignored the half-joking, but still earnest, plea. “I am no longer your prisoner. I do not have to do what you say.”

“I did not say, have to apology. I said, want to apology.”

“Why should I?”

“To help me? Look, I’ve been trying to change. Life has knocked me around over the years, and I’m not the expert on it that I used to be. I’d like to reconcile the past. You’ve been very gracious during my visit, but also very impersonal. You‘ve acted as if we never knew each other.”

“It is true that I wanted your friendship twenty-five years ago, I was a very lonely person, and I was drawn to you. You intrigued me. I thought a relationship between us would be mutually rewarding. You were not interested, though, even though I tried. It took awhile, but I finally got the message from you.” His voice got an edge to it. “But that was twenty-five years ago. I have made a life for myself since then. It may not seem like much of a life to you, but it is mine. I do not need you in it, just as you did not need me in yours back then.” 

Bryant bit his lips together. “I deserved that, I guess. And it wasn‘t because I wasn‘t interested. I just thought it best that we didn‘t get too close.” 

Hoffman leaned forward. He had warmed to his subject and was no longer impersonal. If Bryant had wanted to get him stirred up, he had succeeded. “And, yes, I have been trying to keep myself from feeling anything now. I do not want to get hurt again. Can you blame me for protecting myself?”

“No, I can‘t.”

“I am merely treating you now the way you treated me back then. Not because I was not interested. I just thought it best that we did not get too close now.”

Bryant winced hearing his own words thrown back at him. But he couldn’t blame Hoffman. He might’ve felt the same way. “Look, I know I acted like I didn’t want your friendship back then, and I didn‘t. I just thought I‘d save everybody a lot of pain later on. And that fighting we did at the end hurt so much because we were friends. I know now that friends can fight, but they can still be friends. Was it the fighting, though, that was bothering us? Or the fact that we didn’t know if we should admit that we were friends?” 

“We were not friends,” Hoffman insisted stubbornly. “There was nothing.”

“Nothing between us? That’s where you’re wrong, and I’m going to prove it. There was something,“ Bryant said as he sat forward. “That day in Heidelberg. The man who held me in his arms after I was shot was not indifferent. The man who whispered ‘do not leave me, my friend’ in my ear was not indifferent. The man who wore my blood on his face was not indifferent.” He stared at Hoffman. “The man whose tears fell on my face was not indifferent. Those tears burned into my soul, and I‘ve regretted my blindness ever since.”

Hoffman leaned back. “Okay, you are right. But it just shows that I cared. What does it show about you?“

“That I was pretty damned stupid. I’m sorry that I never accepted your friendship. It was my loss. I figured that enemies couldn‘t be friends, and there wasn‘t any future in trying.”

Hoffman played with his teacup. “You helped me through a very trying time in my life simply by being with me. As I said back then, I will never forget that. We even had some pleasant experiences.” He looked up at Bryant. “But I cannot say we were friends. You would not allow it. You did not need me as much as I needed you.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but I was wrong . I didn’t get that figured out until way later when it was too late to do anything about it. Life isn’t neat and tidy the way they show it in books and movies. It’s messy and frustrating, and sometimes it just waffles off into the far distance. We had what we had. It wasn’t perfect and it could’ve been more satisfying, but I’m glad we had it. It’s my fault it wasn’t any better, but I know there was something.” He took a deep breath. “Despite what you claim, the day I got shot, I found out how much you really cared about me.” He saw Hoffman lower his head. “I’d suspected it, but that day I knew for sure. You were crushed with inconsolable grief. You thought that I was dying and that you would be responsible for my death. There’s only one reason why you were so overwhelmed. I instigated those stupid rules to keep something like that from happening. But it didn’t do a damned bit of good.”

Hoffman bit his lips together with disgust for himself. Bryant hadn‘t appreciated his caring, and now Hoffman was seeing himself in Bryant‘s eyes. He could understand that Bryant thought it was a weakness in Hoffman, but why was Bryant throwing it up to him? And why so brutally? Bryant should at least appreciate that someone had cared for him. 

Apparently not.

Hans hoped that Bryant would soon leave so that Hans could be alone with his shame. But Bryant continued talking.

“I tried and I tried to keep it from happening, but do you know what?“ Bryant asked softly. “In spite of my hardest efforts, I cared for you right back.” 

Hoffman raised his head in surprise and hope. “You mean--”

“It wasn‘t because I didn‘t like you. I tried very hard not to get close to you, but I did. I couldn’t stop that from happening, despite my resolve. I‘m so sorry for not telling you years ago. I‘ve cheated us both. More than a bullet tore me up the day I got shot. I suddenly realized what we felt for each other, and I realized that it was okay to feel that way. But in the same moment we were ripped out of each others' lives. When I finally came to my senses, I knew I had lost you for good. My heartache had no bounds, my friend,” he whispered. “And it was my own damned fault.”

Hoffman could barely speak. “I appreciate knowing for sure Like you, I had had suspicions. And I knew that you fought it. I did not know why. But it is the same reason I fought it.”

“If you hadn’t been so worried about me when I got shot, you would’ve seen how I really felt. The truth about my feelings finally came out that day, but you didn‘t realize it. But consider a few facts, will you, please? When I got shot, who clung to you?”

Hoffman looked down.

“Who thought that his only connection to the world was you? He might not have sought you out when he was okay, but who thought that you was his only refuge when he was in danger? I needed you then and wouldn‘t admit it. I won‘t make that mistake again. I guess that’s what I came to tell you. I’ll always think of you as my friend.”

“Ja,” Hoffman whispered. “Ja, mein freund.”

“Look at me. Please. Don’t be humble.”

Hoffman looked up with his heart in his eyes. That was what he hadn’t wanted Alex to see. Hoffman thought that his feelings would be a weakness in Bryant‘s eyes. 

But Bryant’s heart soared. He felt lightened, not triumphant. Someone loved him, really loved him!

Bryant grinned. But it was a gentle smile, with no mocking or judgmental qualities about it. “So you can go ahead and act impersonal with your best German determination if you want, but it won’t do a damned bit of good. Because I know the truth. And, now, so do you,. You know,” he added after a quiet moment, “I feel sorry for those two guys back then. They missed out on so much that they could’ve shared. Those days cannot be recovered. But we can go on from here.”

Hoffman stared down at the table for a long time. “I thought I would not, but I find many things I like about you now.”

Bryant smiled faintly. “That’s a start.”

“There is something about back then, though….”

“Yes?”

“The night you came back to my quarters drunk and comforted me…”

Bryant frowned. He could feel the gravity and importance of Hoffman’s thoughts and knew that the German had pondered this problem for a long time and from many different angles.

“Yes?” Bryant encouraged, with equal gravity.

“You were very tender and caring toward me. You showed me an empathy that I was surprised you were capable of.”

“My heart went out to you. I would have done anything to give you some relief of your grief.”

“I know. Nobody had ever offered such a heartfelt gift to me before. Your love for me that night was unconditional. I knew that your drunkenness was lowering your natural reserve, but I realized that there was more depth to your emotion than just sentimentality. The source of your feelings had to come from somewhere besides a bottle. It originated from somewhere deep inside you that possibly not even you were aware of. You went beyond yourself. What was I to do in the face of such feeling? I loved you back.“

Alex couldn’t see the problem. “So?”

“You held me in your arms and I felt beloved. I felt like I belonged there.”

Alex shrugged. He still couldn‘t see the problem. “So?”

Hoffman leaned toward Bryant. He knew he had to make himself plainer. “I lowered my resistance to thoughts of what my culture and upbringing had always taught me were wrong. Thoughts that were, how shall I say it, unnatural?”

Alex blinked.

“I felt feelings for you that a man should not feel for another man.” Hoffman stared into Alex’s eyes. “Do you understand me?”

Alex straightened. “Oh.”

“And I was not drunk, as you were.” He lowered his eyes in shame. “And now that you know, you will wish to go away and have nothing to do with me.”

“This has been your trouble during my visit?”

“Partly. And partly for what I’ve already said.”

“Are you offering yourself to me now?”

“No!” Hoffman roared. “How can you think that?”

“Sorry. I just had to see where this was all leading. I had to see what was really on your mind.”

“I am just worried about what it all meant. Back then. What was really between us.”

“You’re mistaken. It was not what you’re thinking. Stop worrying about yourself. You’re as straight as Napoleon’s sword. We’d both had great traumas in our lives. We were clinging to each other because of that, not because of some other kind of a, ah, thing.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I can’t,” Alex said softly. “And it’d be wonderful if it was true. But it isn’t. War puts a lot of strain on men, and they turn to each other out of fear and a need for mutual comfort. Sometimes that need turns into something else, but not in our case. I know one thing for sure: We’re not queers. We loved each other, but we weren’t in love. There’s a difference.”

Hoffman breathed deeply. “I am glad.”

“I’m not saying that it couldn’t have been.”

Hoffman nodded. “I am glad for that, too.”

“It just wasn’t.”

Hoffman nodded again, and both men grew thoughtful.

“I don’t know which is better,” Bryant finally said. He looked at Hoffman sharply. “Or worse.”

“Ja,” Hoffman breathed softly.

“We never explored those possibilities. And we never will,” Bryant said with a meaningful look. “But not because we shouldn’t. Just simply because we don’t have to. Our relationship was never intended to go along those lines.”

“That was why you wanted us not to get close? Is that not why you instigated the no talking rule?”

“I honestly don’t know. I thought it was because you shouldn’t be intended to be a buddy. You were the enemy, the war was winding down, and we’d all be separated to go back to our real lives in the very near future. I guess I thought we had nothing in common, so why bother? Why give ourselves that added stress when we parted?”

“But what if there was an attraction that you were unaware of? An attraction right at the start that made you unconsciously reserved toward me?”

“I think that happens all the time with everyone we meet, don’t you think? Male or female, we unconsciously consider the new acquaintance as a sexual partner. It’s old Mother Nature always trying to fix us up in her never ending quest for the continuation of the species. Most times, other factors came into play with that quest. Most times, we consider it, discard it, and go on. Most times, we love each other on another, and in our case, better level.”

Hoffman breathed deeply and seemed to shrug off a load of worry.

Bryant frowned. “This has been worrying you?”

“Off and on, down through the years, I wondered. About us. You know how crazy and erratic thoughts can be. One moment, I am ice skating on my ninth birthday with the bite of the bitterly cold February day stinging my face. The next, I am tasting my mother’s noodles that she served on Sundays. And the next, I am reliving the beauty and ecstasy of my wedding night with the precious girl who consented to be my wife. And the next, the fear and loneliness of the war overwhelms me only to be replaced by the racking emotions of being a prisoner of war. One of the few things that saw me through those times was my relationship with you and the other American soldiers. I discovered what decent people you really were and that you were not enemies, after all. And you have forgotten about something else.”

“What’s that?”

“No matter how many problems those two guys back then had, they still had something that we do not have.”

“What’s that?”

“Time. They had a block of time when they were together, even if they did not use it wisely. We do not have that. You will go your way soon, and that will be that.”

“But we part knowing for sure. And knowing, we’ll find a way to share our lives. I don’t know how, but we will know each other in the future. It won’t be another twenty-five years until we see each other again, I promise. I want you to understand that our friendship is very important to me, and I won‘t do anything to jeopardize it.”

Hoffman looked puzzled. “What could you do that would jeopardize it?”

“There are ways, believe me. But it won’t be a problem. I’ll make sure it isn’t.” Even if he had to break his heart again to do so, he would not hurt Hoffman again.

e


	33. Wagner In The Evening

“So, you are leaving us?“ Hoffman asked as they sat in his living room.

Bryant shifted in his chair. “Yes. Tomorrow morning. I missed my bunch in Paris. I’m flying straight to New York City.“

“It has been interesting, Herr Bryant. I am glad after all that you looked me up.“

Alex felt like they were rehearsing lines for a very bad play and not doing very well with the rehearsal. He knew he wasn‘t. He just wanted out. He had overstayed his visit, and it was time to move on. His mother would certainly agree with him. No looking back. No regrets.

He wondered if his mother had ever regretted her philosophy. Had she moved on all those times, because she had wanted to, or because she could not stay any longer. Suddenly, he wanted to ask his mother that question, but, of course, couldn't.

Besides, this was one helluva time to be thinking of his mother's life. He had his own to get straightened out at the moment. He'd managed to get himself mired down, and it was time to pack up his loses and leave.

As for his gains, he felt like he hadn't made much headway. Even finding Hans Deiter back had proven to be a mixed blessing.

“Yes.” High time to be up and away. “Well, I need to get out of here.“

Bryant stood as did Hoffman and Helga.

“And I glad that you chose to save me all the times you did back during the war.“

“I’m no hero,“ Bryant mumbled.

“You were to me,“ Hoffman said in an emotional whisper. “You still are.“

“To both of us,“ Helga murmured as she slipped her right arm threw her brother’s left arm. She had been very quiet and reserved during Bryant’s final visit, but Hans hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“Hans Deiter, I wish you well,” he said as he shook Hoffman’s hand.

“And you also, Herr Bryant,” Hans said solemnly.

“I never thought it possible to have such rapport with a German.”

“Nor I with an American. And to think that it all started when I surrendered to someone I felt I could trust. If you had been somewhere else, it all would have been different for us. Me, certainly. I might not have lived beyond that day.” 

“Lady Luck had her hand in it, that’s for sure. Sometimes, I think she’s out to get me, but not that day. Despite everything, she did us a favor. She gave us the opportunity to know each other.“

Hoffman smiled. “And I am glad that you took the opportunity to visit me. I feel so much better.”

“Me, too.”

“The past can rest now. It is over.”

Alex didn‘t know about that, so he couldn’t agree. “Remember, you have my telephone number, if you want to call any time you’re going through New York City on your way to visit your son in California.”

“I will.”

“And if you ever want to come visit me, I’ll take you out to a baseball game.”

“I think I would enjoy that.”

Bryant steeled himself and turned to Helga. “Frau Gruber, thank you for your hospitality.” He took her hand to shake it. “Thank you for inviting me into your home and for being so gracious. I haven’t had such good home cooked meals in a long time. I’ll always remember your wiener schnitzel.”

“Danka, Herr Bryant.” His hand warmed hers and she gathered the courage to glance up into his face. “I hope you have a safe trip home,” she said softly. She let her guard down and her eyes seemed to be beseeching him with something more, with other words left unsaid that she could not utter.

They gazed into each other’s eyes and stood transfixed. They held the look just a moment too long. Hoffman looked puzzled at them.

Bryant stirred himself and shook her hand. “Thank you, Frau.” He dropped her hand. “Well, I must be going.” He crossed to the door, but paused and looked back. “I felt at home here. I hope you realize that you are very comfortable people to be around.”

“Thank you, Herr Bryant,” Hans murmured. “We felt at ease with you, too.”

The farewells were so staid and impersonal, but Alex felt that was the way the Hoffmans preferred it. He had secrets with both of them, especially Helga, and he wondered how much the siblings would share with each other. Helga had been overjoyed that the men had reached a compromise with their pasts. She also realized that Bryant would probably do nothing to jeopardize that truce, even if it meant that he and Helga would forever be apart. Bryant loved them both. She would not make him choose.

There was so much left unsaid, but Bryant’s time was over with them. The room was crowded with words the two men could have exchanged, words that might not ever be uttered now. It could take the rest of their lives to get it all said, if then. They had said the main ones, though, and that would be enough for now.

“I’m a better person because of you. I‘ll never forget you.” To Hans, it would seem that the words were meant for only him. But Alex and Helga both knew that Helga was included, too.

Bryant nodded at these two people who were so unassuming to the rest of the world, but meant the world to him. He held their gaze a moment longer, then whipped out the door and was gone.

The Hoffmans stared at the empty space between them and the door, then they made an effort to stir themselves.

“Well, that is that,” Helga mumbled in the all too sudden quiet. Already she felt pressed down by the mundane world. She turned toward the kitchen. “I need to chop the potatoes for the fish cakes for supper. There is a little apple strudel for dessert. Or would you like something else to eat?”

But Hans touched her shoulder. “Wait.”

“Ja? You want something besides fish cakes and beets for supper?”

“I want something, ya, but it is not about supper.”

“Ja?” she asked and tried to appear innocent.

“What was that look about?”

“What look, Hans?”

“Helga, you are a terrible actress. I saw the look between you and Bryant.”

“I do not know what you are talking about, Hans.” She turned aside. “I hate goodbyes. You know that. Even if it is only someone I have known for just a little while. It is a family trait. You do not like them yourself.”

“It is more than that.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him. Then he frowned. “Why are there tears in your eyes?”

“It was so good to have him here. It was so good for you. For both of you.”

“And for you?”

“I appreciated getting to know him.”

“How well did you get to know him?” Hans asked with a growing suspicion. “I know that you spent time alone with him at cafes and in the Old Market. Just what happened?”

“We enjoyed our time together, just as the two of you enjoyed your time.”

“I think it was more than that.”

“Oh, Hans, it is unimportant now.” She gestured with her hands as if to dismiss the conversation. “He is gone now. That is all that matters. We can get on with our lives now.”

“No, I think we cannot. I want to hear what happened between you two, Helga. I need to know what is troubling you.”

She sighed. “Nothing, Hans. It is just a chapter that is over.”

“You either tell me, or I will call him at his apartment. He has not left the city yet.”

“Oh, you are making too much of this!” she declared in frustration. “I must see to the supper!”

He eyed her critically and took in her anxiety and underlying sadness. “I think not.” He took her elbow and led her toward the sofa. “Forget the fish cakes. Come sit with me.”

 

“He took everything else. He cannot take my sister, too!”

“That is why he walked away. Hans, he could not hurt you. And he thinks he would eventually hurt me if we were together.”

“That is true. He hurts people, and he knows that he hurts people. And all the while he thinks he is protecting himself from being hurt. Sometimes, back at the time we were together at the end of the war, I thought I would just ignore him as he was trying to do with me, but that hurts, too.“

“Poor Hans,” she said with sympathy in her voice. “What a terrible trial those months must have been. First the war, then the worry about your family, and then having to deal with him.”

He smiled sadly. “They were wonderful months. He made them so. I could not have survived without him, and his memory has been a gentle ache since I last saw him. I am thankful for him.” He pursed his lips together. “And I curse the day I came across him near Nancy. If it has only been anyone else but him! Why him?! Why of all the Allied soldiers did Alex Bryant step forward to save me?”

Helga frowned.

“He is a different breed, Helga. You and I were raised gently. We were not prepared to deal with someone like him. I would say that it is best to turn our backs on someone like him so we can protect our hearts.”

Helga’s frown deepened as she looked down.

“Yes, that is what we should do,” Hans said softly. “But, alas, we cannot.”

Helga looked up again with hope on her face.

“We could live in a cocoon so that we would never have to deal with the Alex Bryants of the world, and we would be safe. But what a sadness that would be to have never known him.” He frowned. “To have never cared for him. I cannot imagine my life without him in it.” He raised his eyebrows. “Aye, aye, aye, it would have easier, that is true. But, oh, how dull and incomplete,” he finished softly.

She reached out and touched his arm.

“I know what it is to care for him, Helga. He can be very roughshod. But there is something about him that makes you forgive him, because you enjoy being with him so much. I also know what it is for him to go away. So I will understand what you will be going through. He will break your heart.”

“Do you want that pain for me? Or for him? You might not believe it is possible, but this time he is breaking his own heart, too.”

“If I am to believe what he suggested or what I intuited,” he said slowly, “his heart cracked open the day he was shot, and it broke completely when he read my goodbye note. So, yes, I think his heart is capable of breaking.” He looked bitter. “But I also think it is capable of healing over with a hardness that cannot be split open again.”

“You are wrong, Hans. The wound scabbed over, but did not heal inside. He is still sorry he was not better to you.”

“I know,” Hans said softly. “I wish it was different, but it is not.”

“We can still hurt someone like Alex, is that not wondrous and powerful?“ She smiled softly. “Our parents prepared us for so much, except for someone like Alex. He is our blessing and our curse. I would have gone with him, gladly. But he would not let me. Because he knows that you would be lost without me. I think that makes him a better person than even he thinks he is. And I think you think so, too.”

“I do not know,” he said. “There is too much between us.”

“Yes, there is.” She saw him look startled at her. “And it is good, Hans. It is all good.”

Hans frowned, but did not answer her.

 

Hans walked into the garden in the evening twilight to take in the end of the day. Not that he would be enjoying himself. Too many emotions were coursing through him. And he knew that Helga was deep in the throes of angst, too, as she finished tidying up the dishes after the evening meal. Not they had wanted to eat much. But the food was there. And being thrifty German people, they ate what the Lord had provided so that it would not be wasted. No matter what had occurred, one had to keep up one’s strength. Besides, there had been too many hungry days in their pasts to waste food.

Helga had been hungry in her early twenties because the food was not available. Hans had not eaten because he was trying to starve himself. He felt he had deserved to eat, and live, because so many others were starving. Both had nearly died from starvation, but for different reasons. And both had survived, but for different reasons. Depraved men had given food to Helga in exchange for favors. Alex Bryant had saved Hans by befriending him.

Now Alex was threatening to take his sister, the only one left to Hans. He had his son in America, but they really didn’t share their lives with each other. No, it was Helga who was his daily companion, Helga whose presence he would miss if she left.

He tried to imagine life without Helga. Coming home from his teaching and finding the house empty. Again. And, later, when he retired. What would he retire to? The empty house?

The empty, lonely years stretched before him. He hadn’t felt this unsettled in a long time. What would he do with all that future time?

Part of him wanted to hang onto Helga and part of him wanted to let her go to have her happiness with Bryant. At least only one person would be unhappy then, instead of three. Because Hans knew that Bryant was hurting now as well.

It had been so rewarding to learn what Bryant really thought of him. Bryant had changed. He would have never admitted his feelings twenty-five years ago. Hans smiled. At least they had something of a future together, if only occasionally. Hans would be journeying to America next year to see Peter graduate from the eighth grade. Hans would see Bryant at that time. By then, Bryant and Helga would be over each other.

But what if they weren’t? He would be able to tell by looking at Bryant’s face. He would know what Helga was feeling every day. She would resign herself to a bleak future. After all, didn’t she know how to do that by now? Hadn’t she done so much of it before in her life?

Hans breathed deeply. He and his sister had been living alright in their life until Alex Bryant had come along to show them what they were missing.

Hans walked slowly through his garden that he tended as carefully as if the blossoms were infants and he was a nursemaid. The summer had been kind with plentiful rain and days that were not too hot. Tending this yard brought him much solace in the summer, and reading filled his winter hours. Then there was music, always music, with his university colleagues and with, of course, Helga. 

Ja, they would make a life for themselves again. All they needed was to resume their routine. Then the satisfaction of simple lives quietly lived would return. And he would learn to be content once more.

Without Bryant in his life.

He had done it before. He could do it again.

But a hollow pain would always be there.

 

When Hans reentered the house, he found Helga listening to the radio.

“What? No television?” he asked as he settled in his easy chair. He liked to tease her about not liking television. “What are you listening to?”

“A concert. Parsifal.”

“Ah. Wagner. Wagner in the evening. A good choice. Wagner is always good. Is it being broadcast from the Festival House in Bayreuth?”

“Ja.”

“Just listen to the acoustics. His music is so mystical, and that opera house adds to the illusion.”

“I would like to attend an opera there sometimes, Hans. We both like Wagner so well.”

“Ja, that would be a good idea,” he said, trying to spark her enthusiasm further. It was the first interest she had taken in anything since Bryant had left. “Perhaps in a couple of weeks. I will get a break in my teaching then.”

“Bayreuth is so close to East Germany.”

He patted her hand. “We will be safe.”

“I know it is foolish, but I worry.”

“Your fears are not foolish. You lived through harsh times.”

“I wish that they would rebuild the opera house here in Frankfurt. It is too bad that it was heavily damaged in the war.”

“They call it ‘Germany’s most beautiful ruin.’ There has been talk of rebuilding it.” Hans smiled. “Some people just want to blow it up and be done with it.”

They quieted and let the music paint pictures in their minds. When the concert ended, they turned the radio off, wished each other good night, and went into their own rooms. But sleep was slow in coming to both of them. 

So this was what the years stretching before them could offer? Quiet days of familiar work and quieter evenings of shared gentle pleasures? The security of comfortable sameness?

Hans could imagine Helga crying softly as she had done as a child when she was upset. He had always tried to soothe her with a gentle lullaby until she finally closed her eyes and slept. He was a good big brother. He always protected his little sister. 

But he could not protect her now. They were no longer children, and his lullaby could no longer soothe her.

As he lay there in his solitary bed, words came to Hans, words that he had spoken, or should have spoken, either to Bryant or Helga, it didn’t matter which, before this.

“Sometimes life is like that, based on coincidence. It can also seem like a series of lost opportunities. The randomness of life is astounding. And Bryant‘s Lady Luck is as good of a name to call it as anything else.” 

But now, surely, opportunities could be influenced. Couldn’t they?

Deep in the night Hans came to a decision. He vowed he would make Helga smile again.


	34. Love Just Is

The next morning, Alex Bryant entered the Frankfurt Airport and looked around the terminal. He understood that the United States Air Force had used this airport as its base during the Berlin Airlift in the late forties. He also understood that in the near future the facility would be replaced and the runways extended so that Frankfurt Am Main could become an international air hub. He’d better take a good look; he doubted if he ever saw this airport again, no matter what its condition. He was on his way to leaving something else behind in his past.

After Bryant checked his luggage, he absently listened to the loud speaker announcing plane departures and arrivals. He paid little attention to the mass of people around him. His thoughts were elsewhere. A thousand memories whirred through his mind. It was difficult to imagine that only two weeks had passed since he’d walked into the Hoffmans’ home. They’d helped him to reshape his life simply by being in it. He hoped he hadn’t hurt them too much in the process. He hoped that they put him back in the past, back where he belonged.

He remembered how quickly he’d picked up his German language skills again and how he and the Hoffmans had conversed in a mixture of German and English. And occasionally someone had switched to French or one of the other Romance languages just for a change. If others had been listening, they could have closed their eyes and pictured themselves at an international meeting instead of casual acquaintances conversing. 

Alex half-smiled thinking of the ease he’d felt with the Hoffmans. Then he sobered. That was over now. He knew he was going to miss their company. Strange how it had never bothered him to walk away from people before.

Bryant clasped his arms with his hands and stared at the floor. He wondered if the people back home would find him changed. He didn’t feel as cynical or as critical as when he’d left the States. Maybe he and Sandra could even get back together. That would really surprise everyone, especially Sandra.

Maybe he could start by being more considerate of Sandra. Her main gripe had been that he had stopped paying attention to her. He’d won her once; he could do it again. After all, he had a secret weapon. They shared a daughter, a daughter who would want them back together. 

And what a daughter! In retrospect, Alex had marveled about their discussion at the outdoor café and wondered what he had said or done to bring about the minor miracle of their reconciliation. And then he had realized he had done nothing at all. It had been all Josie’s doing. Then his heart had truly swollen with pride. What a person he had sired!

Ben Houston had never been proud of his daughter, and Doris had known it. Alex, on the other hand, was practically in awe of his daughter, and he thought Josie realized it. He hoped that would make the difference in their relationship and that they could stay friends.. 

When Sandra saw how well Alex and Josie were getting along together, she might reconsider her attitude about Alex and give him another chance. After all, they had some wonderful memories. 

He could make something of his life. Starting now. With Sandra.

He could do this!

He could--

\--do--

\--this….

Bryant sighed. Oh, if only he could. But he couldn’t seem to muster the required enthusiasm for a future with Sandra, no matter how hard he tried. Instead, he felt empty inside. Obviously, Sandra wasn’t his future.

And he thought, he hoped, that it really didn‘t have anything to do with his track record of walking away from people without a backward glance.

Something was different, though. And the only thing that he could think of that could be making him feel this way was that he was leaving the Hoffmans. He’d really started to feel at home with them. And, doggone it, it was hurting to leave them. 

Generally, he didn’t like to leave himself this open. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. Yes, he regretted the past and realized he’d been cheating himself all these years by not letting people get close to him. He hadn’t figured on hurting like this by opening up, though. That’s what you get for caring, he thought.

Bryant sighed again. Yes, he was leaving. And he knew down deep within himself that it was for the best. Maybe not for him, but for them. If he stayed around any longer, he might really hurt them. And he didn’t want to do that. They meant a lot to him, and he was finally allowing himself to admit that. 

How could he have fallen in love with Helga after knowing her for only a few days? She wasn’t the self-assured sort who generally attracted him. She was fragile and needy; and he generally ran, not walked, away from that type. But she was the person who appealed to him right now.

His feelings for her were utterly ridiculous, he thought. There was no logic to his situation, but whoever said that love is logical? Love just is. 

Besides, it went beyond his being in love with Helga. It was he being in their lives and they being in his. Entwined relationships meant there would be days of conflict and sorrow. They were only human, and human beings aren’t perfect. But there could be happiness, too, much happiness. Maybe that was what it meant to live; a person had to take the pain with the pleasure.

And Bryant would feel anchored with her, like he was a part of something. How wonderful that would be!

To hope that for a moment that it could be.

But then there was reality.

Alex sighed in resignation.

So much for dreams.

The reality was that at any moment, his plane flight would be called. And he would walk away. Not so clean a getaway as most other times, but a getaway, nonetheless.

Bryant chanced to look up and saw Hans and Helga Hoffman approaching. Wishful thinking on his part? A mirage? His mind letting him see what he wanted to see?

He closed his eyes, afraid to open them. Did he, or did he not, want the Hoffmans to be approaching him for real?

He opened his eyes.

It really was them! His heart leapt for joy. 

At first.

Then he sobered. They probably had just come to see him off.

Then he knew he would only get all torn up inside when they had to go their separate ways. Alex didn’t want to say goodbye to them again, especially Helga. He frowned, steeled himself, and stood. This encounter had to be faced.

“Oh, we caught you!” Hans exclaimed. He seemed exuberant, almost lighthearted. But his face looked tired, like he hadn’t slept much. And there were dark circles until his eyes. 

Welcome to the crowd, Bryant thought. He was hoping someone had slept the night before, because he surely hadn’t. So he wasn’t in the mood for too much. He couldn’t take too much more angst.

“What are you doing here?” Bryant growled.

Hans grinned and, much to Bryant’s amazement, looked jovial. “Such a greeting! One would think you were not happy to see us!”

Bryant glanced at Helga. She looked as animated as her brother, and she had dark smudges under her eyes, too. He couldn’t understand their appearance. They looked tired and acted punch drunk from lack of sleep. These were ten o'clock bedtime, eight hours of sleep people. Now they looked like they'd been on an all-night bender.

And what was their purpose in being here? They’d said their goodbyes. Maybe they just wanted to send some newly-baked cookies or fresh fruit along with him on his flight so he would have something homemade to eat. Friends did that for friends, he understood. But he didn’t see any small sacks in their hands. Then he noticed the suitcase that Hans had set down beside him. 

They were sending a lot of cookies?

“I repeat, what--”

“I am too full to explain. I have no words, they have left me,“ Hans said emotionally. “I will show you!“ He grabbed Bryant’s hand and slipped Helga’s hand into it.

The contact coursed through Bryant like a low charge of electricity. “What the-- What is this?”

“I am giving you my sister’s hand.” Then he winked, actually winked, at Helga. “And the rest of her, too.”

Helga looked down and had the grace to blush.

Bryant looked puzzled. Maybe they’d been in the schnapps already, but it was only ten o’clock in the morning.

“I don’t understand--”

Hans sobered. “You don’t want her anymore?”

Bryant at last focused fully on Helga and felt the same softness that was mirrored in her eyes. “Oh, yeah!,” he breathed as he saw all the love she felt for him. “Oh, God, yes! How could I not?“ Then he looked back at Hans. “But I still don’t understand--”

“Let me do something good for you, Bryant. You have saved my life so many times, and I could not repay you. Now I can. Do not deny me this, my friend. It is time that I took a bullet for you.”

Bryant’s eyes widened. 

“I couldn’t sleep until I came to that decision, and then everything fell into place. There is no third man in the ring anymore, Lieutenant Bryant. We are equals, at last.” He tried to look stern, but it didn’t quite come off. He was feeling too much emotion. “It is my turn to be a hero, my friend. Do not take that away from me.”

“You trust me with your sister? She’s the most precious thing in your life. I’m not that good of a person--”

“I choose to think you are,” Hans affirmed in a husky voice.

“The relationship between Helga and me has happened too fast. There’s bound to be a lot of rough spots--”

“Then you must have time to work on it. She will not be happy, otherwise.”

“I could break her heart.”

“Do you not understand? It will break her heart if she does not see you again. She is a grown woman. She is willing to take a chance with you. I want her to have that chance.”

“Boy, you are blind, and dumb.”

“Maybe. But I trust you, Bryant. I always did. Even when I was staring down the barrel of your weapon, I knew I was safe with you. I think Helga is, too. No, I KNOW she is. And you will, too, when you know that people are trusting in you.”

“Don’t put this load on me.”

“I suppose I am half-blind. But you are so decent.”

“It’s a curse,” Bryant mumbled, feeling his face redden. 

“No, it is a gift,” Hans muttered. “Helga and I are the lucky ones. Especially Helga. She is going with you.”

“What?!” Bryant stared at Hoffman’s beaming face and then at Helga who nodded her assent.

“I have a suitcase and my passport,” Helga said. “That is all I need, if I am with you.”

It all seemed so illogical to Alex. “But, but that’s traveling so light!”

“Hans will send the rest of my things, what few articles I will want to keep.” Helga shrugged. “Besides, I have lived with very few possessions before. We will gather things that mean something to us, not something from the past.”

“But, but, you’ll be leaving Hans Deiter alone!”

“Not for long,” Helga answered with a soft smile at her brother. “He will be joining us soon.”

Bryant frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I am coming to America, too!” Hans proclaimed. “I have to give my sister away at her wedding, do I not?”

Bryant’s eyes widened again. 

“You’re coming Stateside?”

“Yes!”

“And I’ll be seeing you all the time?”

“I hope so.”

“But what about your job? Your house? Your flowers, for God’s sake?”

“They are just things, Bryant,” Hoffman answered with a shrug similar to Helga‘s. “I can get another job and another house. There will be other flowers, too. Someone will care for the ones I leave behind.”

Bryant grinned. “Got it all figured out, don’t you?”

“I hope so. And the details will fall into place.”

Alex studied him. “This will only work if we get one thing straightened out right now.“

“What is that?“ asked Hans, mystified.

“You have to stop calling me Bryant!“ he growled. He dropped Helga’s hand and held his hand out to Hoffman. “My name is Alex,“ he said softly.

Hans stared at him, then smiled and shook Alex’s hand. 

The men grinned at each other, slapped each other’s shoulder, then caught each other in an awkward embrace. It was starting to dawn on both of them that there would be a new relationship between them, and it would be good. And it would be together.

Alex felt a healing that he’d never expected. It’d taken years, but the war was finally, truly over.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with a middle-aged, half-blind brother-in-law,” he mumbled over Hoffman’s shoulder as the men continued their embrace. “But I’ll think of something.“ 

He jerked his head up and his mouth dropped open in surprise as another, wonderful idea struck him. “Half-blind German guy! She wanted a half-blind German guy! Holy--“

“Your expletive?” Hans questioned, baffled. “What is wrong?”

“I’ll be back!” Bryant pulled away from Hans and started running toward the telephones.

“Where are you going?!” Hans hollered after him.

Bryant stopped and looked back at their questioning faces. 

“I’m calling home! I know someone who needs to know I found a half-blind German guy!” He didn’t add ‘for her’ because he didn’t want to scare Hans off. But Alex expected not too much objection from that person, especially after Hans met Maw.

The thought crossed his mind that if he got them together, he would have to call Maw by her real name of Kate. He grinned to himself. He could do that, he thought. For Maw, ah, Kate, anything. And for Hans Deiter, anything, too.

He’d never thought of himself as Cupid, but what the heck. Anything was possible. If he could pull this off, Life would really be treating all of them pretty good for a change. Hell, they might all have a shot at happiness. Surely it was finally their turns at it. 

A sense of well-being and hope began to swell inside him. This must be what the poets called lightheartedness. And this new energy flowing through him must be happiness. In fact, he felt downright giddy.

What a picture he must be presenting, running through the terminal and grinning like a demented idiot. But he didn’t care.

He had come back to Europe in search of the past and had found himself. And he was ready for anything.

Bring the future on! he wanted to shout. He could face anything! Great things were going to happen! He felt wonderful!

And then Alex did something very odd, especially for him.

He stopped, threw back his head, and laughed. He laughed out loud. Just for the sheer hell of it!

He glanced back at the Hoffmans. They didn’t understand what was happening to him, then their puzzled faces cleared as they saw him laughing. If he was happy, then everything must be okay. They recognized his joy and smiled in support and approval. They were glad for him. 

For that, he loved them. 

And for so many other reasons, too.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The rehabilitation of Europe following the Second World War had to have been a horrendous undertaking. These people had been at war for a number of years, and their countrysides, cities, families, and economies had been utterly devastated. And the generation before them had suffered a similar fate following the First World War. Yet I have found little written about the angst and suffering of ordinary people when hostilities ended. Life did not magically return to prewar status. I did not touch much on the subject of the trials of the common people following the official end of the war in this story as I now lack sufficient background to write such a work. Instead, I centered on one American and followed his life, especially where it touched upon one German life. Perhaps in the future I can acquaint myself sufficiently to write such a work about the plight of European people trying to resume an ordinary life pattern. Or perhaps others can take up the pen. There are bound to be millions of such stories out there to be written. Let this be the first of our awareness of the task that faced those exhausted, yet brave people.  
> I own nothing of the movie "Kelly's Heroes" nor the song "Burning Bridges," nor do I represent anyone who has any connection to these two entertainment media. I also do not own anything of Clint Eastwood nor his enterprises, not do I represent him in any way whatsoever.


End file.
